The carriage raced through the capital's streets with desperate speed, wheels clattering over cobblestones while the driver pushed the horses to their limits. Inside the confined space Raze sat beside Elizabeth with Oziel across from them, Anastasia pressed against the window watching their route for signs of pursuit.

The Temple of Light was falling behind them, the chaos of Elizabeth's rescue hopefully buying enough time to reach the safe house before an organized response could be mounted. The plan had worked despite complications, they had their witness and were escaping with precious minutes of lead time.

Then the seemingly quiet escape shattered.

"Get out of the way!" the coachman's voice rang out sharp with alarm and sudden fear. "Move! Clear the road!"

The carriage lurched violently as the driver hauled on the reins, horses screaming protest as they were forced into emergency stop that sent everyone inside tumbling forward. Raze caught himself against the seat while Elizabeth gasped, Anastasia bracing against the window frame to avoid being thrown.

They exchanged knowing glances, silent communication passing between people who'd learned to recognize danger's approach. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, no random obstacle would make an experienced driver stop with such violence during what was clearly an escape.

The coachman's voice erupted again, this time raining curses on someone blocking their path. "Damn you! Move or I'll run you down! We have no time for games!"

Then came the sound that confirmed their worst fears.

Thud.

A body hitting the ground, heavy and final. The coachman's curses cut off mid-word, replaced by silence that was somehow worse than any sound.

The glances continued inside the carriage, four people frozen in a moment of terrible understanding. Whoever had stopped them hadn't been moved by threats or warnings, they'd simply eliminated the obstacle the driver represented.

"Well done with the performance, Lady Anastasia," a voice called from outside, smooth and professional with undercurrent of casual cruelty. "Truly exceptional acting, you had everyone at the Temple entrance completely convinced of your outrage over interrupted medical services."

Anastasia's face went pale, recognition flickering in her eyes even before the speaker continued.

"I watched from the beginning you see," the voice went on conversationally. "Positioned where I could observe your distraction while my targets infiltrated through the service entrance, I must admit the coordination was impressive, almost professional in its execution."

"He let us escape," Oziel said quietly, his hand moving to his sword hilt. "This was a trap from the start."

"Indeed I did," the voice confirmed, apparently unconcerned about being overheard. "It's much cleaner to eliminate threats away from the Temple grounds where witnesses and complications can be minimized, the Pope's reputation remains unstained and I handle loose ends without creating public spectacle."

The speaker paused, letting implication sink in before delivering his ultimatum. "So here's how this proceeds, you all exit the carriage gently and cooperatively, and I promise your deaths will be relatively quick and painless, resist or attempt to flee and I make the process considerably more unpleasant, your choice really."

Elizabeth's breath caught sharply, her golden eyes widening with recognition and terror. "Bowman," she whispered to the group, her voice shaking. "That's Bowman, the Pope's personal retainer, he was there when the Pope imprisoned me."

"How dangerous is he?" Raze asked quietly, his Combat Reflex already screaming warnings about the threat outside.

"Very," Elizabeth said, fear evident in every syllable. "He's been with the Pope for years handling problems that require violence rather than diplomacy, I've heard rumors he has an Authority though I've never seen it demonstrated, but the way Temple guards fear him suggests it's something lethal."

They exchanged final glances, silent agreement passing between them. Running wasn't an option with someone this dangerous blocking their escape, hiding in the carriage would just make them targets trapped in confined space, the only choice was facing this threat directly and hoping Oziel's skills were sufficient to overcome whatever they were about to confront.

Oziel moved first, opening the carriage door and stepping down with hand resting casually on his sword hilt. His posture radiated calm readiness, the bearing an of experienced fighter who'd faced death often enough to stop fearing it.

Raze followed, his mind already working through tactical assessments despite limited information about their opponent's capabilities. Then Anastasia helped Elizabeth down, the Temple sister still weak from her imprisonment but managing to stand despite obvious terror.

The man called Bowman stood perhaps twenty feet ahead of them, positioned perfectly to have stopped the carriage without risk to himself. His dark trench coat hung open now, hood pulled back to reveal features that matched Elizabeth's description enhanced by direct observation.

Dark skinned with black curly hair cut close to his skull, amber eyes that tracked their movements with professional assessment of prey evaluating predator. Two daggers rested in his hands, weapons held with casual competence that spoke to extensive experience in their use. His stance was relaxed but ready, coiled potential waiting to explode into violence.

The coachman lay crumpled nearby, his neck bent at angle that confirmed death rather than unconsciousness. Eliminated as casually as someone might swat an insect, obstacle removed with efficiency that spoke to how little human life meant to this man.

"Do you know who I am?" Anastasia demanded, her voice carrying aristocratic authority despite fear evident in her expression. "I'm Lady Anastasia Venn, wife of Lord Regent, attacking me is treason against a noble house and will bring consequences you cannot imagine."

"I know exactly who you are," Bowman said, his tone suggesting mild amusement at the attempt. "And I have explicit authorization from your husband to eliminate you if you're found consorting with his enemies, apparently Lord Venn values operational security over marital loyalty, a shocking development I'm sure."

His amber eyes shifted to Raze, recognition flickering. "White hair, blue eyes, traveling with a noble woman and other matching descriptions provided by the Temple surveillance, you must be Raze Dragonheart, the young cultivator who thought investigating a Lord Regent was good idea."

"I know you," Bowman continued, gesturing toward Oziel with one dagger. "Oziel Radcliffe, the Gallant Failed Knight, disgraced failure drowning himself in drink and self-loathing, I'm actually surprised to see you sober and armed, though it won't help, you'll die alongside these fools you've chosen to associate with."

"There should be more of you," Bowman mused, his eyes scanning the area. "Reports mentioned a noble woman with fire abilities, an alchemist and someone with silver eyes, I assume they're elsewhere conducting other aspects of your investigation, unfortunate for them that they'll have to be hunted separately after I finish here."

He shifted his stance slightly, daggers adjusting position in preparation for combat. "So, do you have any last words? Final prayers to whatever gods you worship? Defiant speeches about justice and righteousness? I find people like to say something meaningful before dying though honestly I rarely remember what they said."

Raze's mind raced despite the fear coursing through him, this wasn't a random guard or corrupt official, this was a professionally killer working for the Pope himself with authorization to eliminate anyone threatening their interests. The casual competence in his bearing suggested extensive experience in exactly this kind of work.

He needed information, needed to understand what they were facing before violence began. His Inspect skill activated almost reflexively, tactical assessment overriding social awkwardness about using abilities on people.

Ding.

The notification appeared with information that made Raze's blood run cold.

[Assassin]

Name: Bowman

Age: 38

Rank: Master (Peak)

Core: Refined (Peak)

Bloodline: None

Authority: Poison King

Strength: A

Agility: S

Endurance: B

Mana: A

Will: B

Perception: A

Skills:

[Assassination Arts S]

[Dagger Mastery S]

[Shadow Step A]

[Killing Intent B]

[Poison Manifestation S]

[Speed Enhancement A]

[Vital Strike S]

Master Peak, one step away from Grandmaster rank. Authority called Poison King that could manifest toxins directly. S rank Agility and assassination skills honed to lethal perfection. This wasn't a fight they could win through conventional means, this was execution waiting to happen.

"Oziel," Raze said quietly, keeping his voice steady despite the terror his Inspect had revealed. "He's Master Peak with Authority focused on poison, his assassination skills are at the same level, we're severely outmatched."

"I know," Oziel replied, his tone carrying grim acceptance. "I could feel his cultivation level the moment I saw him, but running isn't option and hiding failed, so we fight or we die, might as well make it interesting."

Bowman's expression shifted slightly, curiosity replacing casual confidence. "You can sense cultivation levels accurately? Interesting skill for someone so young, what else did your assessment tell you?"

Before Raze could respond Bowman moved, his form blurring with speed that defied normal perception. One moment he stood twenty feet away, the next he was simply gone, disappeared from view as his S rank Agility translated thought into motion too fast for Adept Low cultivator to track.

Raze's Combat Reflex screamed warning but his body couldn't respond fast enough, his enhanced perception let him recognize the danger but not react to it. He saw the aftermath rather than the movement, dagger appearing inches from his skull aimed with precision that would punch through bone and brain in single strike.

'This is it, his mind supplied with terrible clarity. Game over, I'm dead, all the planning and preparation and swallowing plots and it ends here because I wasn't strong enough or fast enough or smart enough to avoid this trap.'

He'd given up in that frozen instant, accepted death as inevitable outcome of being too slow to matter.

Then he saw the sparks.

Clang!

Metal struck metal with sound like thunder compressed into single note, bright flashes erupting where blade met dagger in collision that generated enough force to send shockwaves through the air. Raze's vision cleared enough to see Oziel standing before him, sword drawn and positioned perfectly to intercept Bowman's killing strike.

The movement had been impossible, one moment Oziel was standing beside the carriage, the next he was between Raze and death. One step to cross the distance, one motion to draw his blade from its sheath, one precise angle to block attack that should have been unstoppable.

All of it executed in a single fluid action faster than Bowman's assassination attempt.

Cold air washed over Raze as adrenaline flooded his system retroactively, sweat breaking out across his skin as his body processed how close death had come. His breath came in gasping exhale, mind struggling to comprehend survival when execution had seemed certain.

Bowman's expression cracked, casual confidence fragmenting as he reassessed the threat before him. His amber eyes widened fractionally, mask of professional detachment slipping to reveal genuine surprise beneath.

"You blocked that," Bowman said, his voice carrying edge of disbelief. "Full speed assassination strike with killing intent behind it and you not only reacted but intercepted perfectly, who the hell are you really?"

"Someone who's tired of watching people die because monsters like you serve corrupt masters," Oziel said, his voice carrying edge that spoke to barely contained fury. "You want these people, you go through me first."

Raze's hands shook as aftermath of near-death crashed through his system, but his mind was still working, still processing. If Oziel had moved that fast, had reacted to Bowman's S rank speed with perfect precision, then perhaps the Failed Knight's skills weren't as diminished as his reputation suggested.

His Inspect activated again, desperate need for information overcoming tactical reluctance.

Ding.

[Swordsman]

Name: Oziel Radcliffe

Age: 29

Rank: Master (Peak)

Core: Refined (Peak)

Bloodline: Heavenly Sword Master (Awakened)

Authority: Severance

Strength: A

Agility: S

Endurance: A

Mana: A

Will: S

Perception: S

Skills:

[Sword Mastery S]

[Combat Intuition S]

[Flash Step S]

[Killing Edge A]

[Perfect Counter S]

[Speed Enhancement A]

[Battle Focus A]

Master Peak like Bowman, same rank hovering one step from Grandmaster advancement. But where the assassin relied on poison and shadow, Oziel's power came from pure swordsmanship refined to supernatural levels.

Heavenly Sword Master bloodline, awakened and enhancing every aspect of his blade work. Authority called Severance that could cut through anything given proper application. S rank Perception and Will supporting S rank combat skills that transformed him into a living weapon.

The Failed Knight wasn't failed at all, just broken by guilt over failure that hadn't been his fault. But his skills remained sharp, honed by years of practice even during his self-destructive spiral.

"Master Peak," Bowman said, his assessment matching what Raze's Inspect had revealed. "Same rank as myself, this makes the situation considerably more complicated than anticipated."

"Good," Oziel said, his sword settling into guard position. "I prefer fair fights over executions, makes the outcome more satisfying when I win."

Bowman's mask reformed, professional confidence reasserting itself despite the surprise. "Fair fight assumes we're evenly matched, I hate Authority advantage and assassination skills specifically designed to kill stronger opponents, your swordsmanship is impressive but ultimately irrelevant against poison that bypasses conventional defense."

"Then stop talking and prove it," Oziel challenged. "Show me this Poison King Authority that makes you so confident, demonstrate why the Pope trusts you to handle his problems."

The air between them crystallized with tension, two Master Peak cultivators measuring each other while preparing for violence that would determine survival for everyone present. Raze stood frozen behind Oziel, acutely aware that his Adept Low cultivation was utterly insufficient for this level of combat.

Anastasia had pulled Elizabeth back toward the carriage, both women recognizing they were liabilities in a fight between opponents moving faster than normal perception could track.

Bowman's daggers began glowing with sickly green light, poison manifesting along the blades as his Authority activated. The toxin radiated malevolence even from distance, promising agonizing death to anything it touched.

"Last chance to surrender," Bowman said. "I can make your deaths relatively painless if you cooperate, resist and the poison will ensure your final moments are extended agony."

"I'll take my chances," Oziel said, his blade beginning to glow with silver light as his own Authority manifested. The air around his sword seemed to sharpen, reality itself bending away from the edge as Severance prepared to cut through whatever stood before it.

They moved simultaneously, two masters launching into combat that transcended anything Raze had witnessed before. Speed and skill colliding in exchanges that generated shockwaves, poison meeting severance in battle that would determine whether justice or corruption prevailed.

And standing behind Oziel with heart still hammering from his brush with death, Raze could only watch and pray that the legendary swordsman's skills were sufficient to overcome the Pope's assassin.

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