Chapter 30: 30 - Black Troll

The moon was still high when the warriors gathered on the roof of the Black Sails Inn. The sun was beginning to hint at its arrival as the group stared at Rygar in complete silence.

"Kidar and Taes, listen carefully," his voice was firm but low, so as not to break the silence of the night. "If anything goes wrong, retreat. This is a mission of extermination and rescue, not a mission for you to throw your lives away. If you think you can't retreat, shout my name as loud as possible. Don't hesitate. I will come to help, no matter where you are in the city."

The two leaders nodded, absorbing the gravity of his words. Without further ceremony, Rygar raised his hand and signaled for them to disperse. Like shadows, each group moved in a different direction, leaving only the wind as their company.

Rygar led his group toward one of the city's gates. Their main base was located a few hundred meters outside the city. He ran ahead with Yan close behind, Eidar carrying Rufus on his back, and the two additional warriors completing the rest of the group. The tension in the air was palpable, and even their careful steps seemed to echo loudly in the dark of the night.

As they advanced, Rygar instructed his group:

"Yan, you'll enter through the main entrance and kill everyone you can, using the fact that they recognize you as an ally."

The man nodded seriously, with a hint of fear, adjusting the sword at his waist with his remaining arm. Rygar then looked at Rufus, his gaze firm:

"Rufus, your position is behind Eidar. Always. Watch everything Eidar does. I plan to start your training right after this operation."

"Understood, boss," Rufus replied, trying to appear serious, which only made him seem more adorable.

They exited the city by jumping over the small wall, without alerting the guards, and continued running through the forest. Rygar could already hear various voices and smell the scent of many people in the distance.

After running along a small trail, they finally saw, ahead of them, the target of their mission: a massive complex surrounded by high walls. In the center stood a main building that seemed sturdy and imposing, with a faint glow from the torches still burning around it. His sharp senses made Rygar hear muffled laughter and the sound of music coming from inside.

"A party?" One of the beast warriors murmured in surprise.

"Looks like it," Rygar replied, narrowing his eyes. He activated his magic eye. The field of vision around him changed drastically, allowing him to see the mana of the people beyond the walls. Inside the main hall, a large group of men were gathered, their movements carefree, with mugs and weapons within reach.

His eyes scanned the underground area, where something very different caught his attention. An extensive subterranean space, lined with cages packed with people. Fatigued faces, thin bodies, and eyes full of despair. Slaves. Many slaves.

"A hell hidden beneath the earth," he muttered to himself, his jaw tight.

Deactivating his magic eye, he turned back to the group.

"I'll infiltrate. I'll eliminate as many as possible from the side I enter, fast and silent. Only after will I head to the main hall. With all the commotion, many of them will probably head to the main hall to help, but some may choose to flee."

He pointed toward the visible entrances.

"Stay alert to the entrances. Kill anyone you see, unless it's a slave fleeing. Once they realize what's going on, many will try to escape, likely through some secret exits, but as I said, we don't need to kill them all."

They all nodded, their expressions rigid and tense. Rygar gave them one last look before disappearing into the darkness, like a shadow gliding along the walls of the complex.

He ran toward the side where he had noticed the highest concentration of people earlier.

The eastern wall rose before him, tall but unprotected. He adjusted his stance and propelled himself with an agile leap, using wind magic to soften the impact as he landed on the other side. His boots touched the ground lightly, but not enough to avoid the attention of two guards patrolling nearby.

The men immediately turned, but Rygar was already in motion. His blue sword gleamed in a clean arc, the brilliance of the Longsword of Light briefly appearing in the darkness. The strike was so fast the guards had no time to react; he passed swiftly between them, aiming for their throats. Both collapsed to the ground, blood spurting from their necks, their bodies motionless in an instant.

Rygar quickly wiped the blade, the tension in his muscles evident. He looked toward the complex ahead, activating his magic eye again. The mana presences glowed like flames in the dark, revealing the positions of several people—some patrolling, others sleeping or scattered in corridors. The largest concentration was still in the central hall, celebrating.

He took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts.

"Most are in that hall, but many are still patrolling or resting in their rooms. I can't afford to explore every room. And destroying everything at once would alert the main hall..."

His eyes lit up as he came up with an idea.

"Maybe it's time to test that technique."

He extended his index finger, and a small wind sphere began to spin at its tip. After many failed attempts to create a vacuum magic, he realized it wasn't something he could achieve quickly, as the control needed for it was immense. Rygar then simplified the idea: a wind compression, dense and deadly. He called it the Supersonic Bullet.

Its greatest advantage was that it was a very silent technique, and when released, it cut through the air with impressive speed. It could easily penetrate these wooden walls. Although his control was still imprecise, the technique was effective for taking down distant targets. He was confident he could hit enemies up to forty meters away with enough accuracy.

Rygar stepped forward, moving like a shadow between the walls.

He identified two guards stationed behind a side door. Raising his finger, he aimed and fired the Supersonic Bullet. The small sphere cut through the air like an invisible lightning bolt, passing through the wall and leaving a small hole as it struck the first guard's neck, dropping him with a thud. The second guard barely had time to comprehend what had happened before being hit directly in the temple. He collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Seems functional."

Moving through the complex's outer corridors, Rygar slipped by with agility. His magic vision guided him, allowing him to anticipate the guards' positions. Around a corner, he saw two men talking in low voices.

Without hesitation, Rygar prepared and leaped toward them, his sword already ready. As the guard turned the corner, the blue blade described an arc so fast it seemed invisible. The strike split the man's neck, and he fell with a muffled sound.

The second guard turned in alarm at hearing the body fall, but before he could react, a Supersonic Bullet shot through his forehead.

Rygar continued forward, his steps becoming increasingly precise. As he advanced through the eastern complex, he occasionally encountered more guards—patrolling or napping in dimly lit corners. He eliminated them without hesitation. Each swing of his sword was clean and calculated, with no wasted motion. He encountered a few slaves on the way and only knocked them out so they wouldn't draw attention.

At one point, he saw three guards in a narrow corridor, separated by two walls. Rygar prepared three Supersonic Bullets simultaneously, firing them in quick succession, hitting each target with surgical precision. The subtle sound of the impacts was almost inaudible, and the bodies fell without knowing what had hit them.

As he advanced, Rygar felt the heat of adrenaline mixed with the coldness of strategic thinking.

"If I'm careless, someone might escape and alert the main hall."

Eventually, he exited the eastern complex and reached the entrance of the central building. This area was more heavily guarded, with four men positioned near the reinforced wooden doors, looking strong and unwilling to risk surviving a wind bullet. Rygar took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on the sword.

He leaped forward in a fluid motion, the blue sword cutting through the air. They all appeared to be strong warriors, reacting quickly to the attack, but his Flash Step gave him the speed advantage needed to prevent them from yelling. He swiftly took down three of them with the Longsword of Light.

The fourth guard, however, was more prepared. He quickly stepped back, reaching for a small alarm bell attached to the wall.

Rygar noticed that the man would reach the bell even while dying, and at the last moment, he decided to sever the man's hand. His blade struck with precision, but the guard managed to partially pull his arm back, losing only a few fingers. Reeling from the pain, the man reached for his sword and began to scream for reinforcements, but Rygar was quicker.

In an explosive motion, he plunged a hidden dagger from his sleeve straight into the man's windpipe.

"Almost..." Rygar murmured, silently thanking himself for bringing backup weapons as he sheathed the dagger.

With the entrance secured, he opened the doors and infiltrated the central structure. The interior was a maze of narrow corridors, dimly lit by torches that cast dancing shadows on the stone walls.

Rygar activated his magical eye once more, detecting the mana presences in the nearby rooms. He advanced silently, eliminating anyone in his path. Some guards fell to his blade, others to his Supersonic Bullet, depending on the circumstances.

As he moved deeper, the sound of laughter and music grew louder, and the air became thick with the mingling scents of sweat, beer, and food.

"The banquet hall is close."

Rygar crept down one final hallway, his steps as light as the wind. The sounds of voices and celebratory cheers became sharper, clearer. He could hear mugs clinking against each other, followed by raucous laughter and shouts of camaraderie.

Through his magical eye, the scene ahead came into focus. The hall was packed, with dozens of figures seated at three long tables. Each mana presence shimmered intensely, indicating advanced levels of strength. These were seasoned warriors, veterans of countless battles.

What truly caught Rygar's attention, however, was the dominant presence at the center of the hall. The sheer intensity of its mana dwarfed the others, radiating a powerful and oppressive aura. The source was a towering figure, whose laughter boomed above the din, filled with an overwhelming sense of confidence.

"That's my target. If I take him out first, the rest will fall easily."

As Rygar moved closer, the lively revelry only grew louder. He could feel the heat from the torches in the suffocating air and the pervasive smell of spilled beer, greasy meat, and unwashed bodies. But something below diverted his focus.

Using his magical eye, he looked down and saw hundreds of cramped cages beneath the main hall, filled with slaves. The stark contrast between the opulence above and the suffering below filled him with grim determination. The wooden floor muffled most of the noise from the banquet hall, but the slaves could still hear faint echoes of their captors' celebration.

"They'll wish they were down there soon enough."

Turning the last corner before the banquet hall's entrance, Rygar began channeling his magic. His blue sword glowed, not only with light but also with fierce orange flames licking along its blade, fueled by his mana. The heat was intense, and the flames danced violently, their light casting ominous reflections on the walls.

Two guards stood at the doorway, reacting instantly upon seeing him. But Rygar was faster. In a fluid motion, he surged forward, his blade slicing through the air in a low arc, severing both guards' necks with surgical precision. Blood spiraled through the air as their bodies crumpled to the ground.

The door was open.

Some of the hall's occupants noticed him immediately, their heads snapping toward the entrance as they began to shout warnings. But Rygar had already locked onto his target: the massive figure at the center of the room.

The Black Troll.

Seated in a colossal chair, he was a monstrous figure with dark gray skin, bulging muscles that strained against his black armor, and two curved horns jutting from his head. His menacing presence was undeniable, and his aura was suffocating.

Rygar took a deep breath and released a roar.

But this wasn't just any roar; it was his Howling Magic in its most powerful form—a skill he had refined meticulously to create an effect akin to the Conqueror's Haki. Using his basic knowledge of acoustics and wave physics, he had perfected the technique. The shockwave spread like an invisible explosion, sweeping through the hall and sending dishes, cups, and utensils flying.

The music stopped abruptly. Laughter turned into stunned silence. The echoes of his magic were like distant thunder reverberating through the space.

Many of the weaker individuals collapsed unconscious on the spot. The stronger ones staggered, disoriented, struggling to regain their footing. Even the servants and slaves present at the banquet fell to the ground, overwhelmed by the residual force.

Rygar didn't stop there. He activated the pinnacle of his speed techniques: Burst Step, a combination of explosive fire and wind magic. Flames erupted beneath his feet, propelling him forward with a velocity that shattered the limits of human perception. His impulse was accompanied by a muffled burst, propelling him with even greater speed than his traditional Flash Step.

The force of his movement bent the air around him, creating a concussive blast as he broke the sound barrier. The floor splintered under the sheer pressure of his acceleration, leaving cracks and debris in his wake.

His target was clear: the Black Troll neck.

As Rygar closed the distance, he activated his fastest technique: Longsword of Light. The blue blade intensified, the flames turning an otherworldly shade of blue tinged with purple, glowing like a star about to explode. The light streaked toward the Black Troll throat with unerring precision, aiming to sever his head in a single, decisive strike.

The blade struck.

But at the last moment, an unexpected force intervened. A radiant black energy enveloped the Black Troll neck, forming an ethereal shield. Rygar's blade bit into the defense, carving a two-centimeter-deep gash into the creature's flesh, but it wasn't enough.

"Damn it!" Rygar cursed internally, retreating just as a sword arced through the space he had occupied moments earlier.

The delayed shockwave of Rygar's burst finally reached the hall, scattering tables and chairs and knocking weaker individuals to the ground.

He looked at the one who had thrown the sword, a burly man of medium height, with a slightly disheveled appearance; his hair was thin and brown, his eyes small and calculating, with a smile on his face. This must be Gallus Cleaner.

The Black Troll rose slowly from his chair, his hulking form casting a long shadow over the chaos. The chair groaned under his weight before toppling backward. He touched his bleeding neck, his fingers coming away coated in dark crimson.

His lips twisted into a sadistic grin.

"You're dead, boy," he growled, his voice a deep rumble that carried the weight of his towering presence.

The failed ambush had set the stage for the true battle.