章 72: Unforeseen path
The tavern's wooden beams groaned under the weight of its occupants as the warm glow of lanterns cast shadows on the rough-hewn walls. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, ale, and the faint tang of adventure that always accompanied a gathering of Frontier soldiers. Around a large, scarred table sat Bors the half-Giant, a hulking figure whose very presence seemed to command attention. Across from him, Theron leaned forward, her fiery gaze locked on Bors as he laid out their next mission.
"This is no ordinary raid," Bors began, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. "The dark elf Kingdom holds one of the Eight Blades.
it's said to be capable of tearing through dimensions. The blade's been kept under the watchful eye of their king, a wily bastard who doesn't make mistakes. Taking it will be no easy feat."
Theron, her brow furrowed, interjected, "Wait. Why does the Shadow Realm have *two* kings? I thought Emperor Zadkiel United the conquer worlds under his banner."
Bors leaned back, taking a long swig of his ale before answering. "The dark elf king and his faction are independent. But they run supply lines for the Emperor in exchange for protection, We may have to deal with them along the way.
Theron's mind raced, piecing together the implications. "then that means if their kingdom fails," she said, her voice laced with realization, "It will crippled the empire supply lines. That should slow down their invasion and give the frontier an upper hand in the war."
Bors nodded. "Exactly. But make no mistake, they won't go down without a fight. The dark elf King is cunning, and his warriors are fiercely loyal."
Theron straightened, determination hardening her features. "I want to be the one to take him down. I started this fight years ago, and I'll damn well finish it."
The room went quiet. Bors slammed his tankard on the table, the force of it making the mugs of nearby soldiers rattle. "No," he said firmly, his eyes narrowing at her. "The *last* time you went after him, you barely made it out alive. You remember that, don't you? Or did the scars fade too fast?"
"I don't care," Theron shot back, her voice rising. "I've waited too long for this. I've grown stronger, smarter. I'll face him again, and this time I'll finish the job."
Bors stood, his massive frame casting a shadow over the table. "This isn't about your pride, Theron. This is about the mission. If we lose you because you're too damn stubborn to listen, we all suffer."
The tension in the room was palpable, soldiers exchanging uneasy glances. Theron stood too, meeting Bors's gaze without flinching. "This isn't about pride," she said through gritted teeth. "It's about payback. He's a monster, and I won't let him keep breathing while I stand here doing nothing."
Bors exhaled heavily, his expression softening just slightly. "We'll discuss this later. For now, let's focus on the plan. We move at dawn."
As Bors sat back down, muttering to himself saying you hot-headed girl, Theron stormed out of the tavern. The soldiers resumed their chatter, but the fire in her eyes as she left hadn't gone unnoticed. The fight against the dark elf King was personal for her, and no amount of warnings would change that.
As Theron reached the exit, Bors called after her, his voice laden with concern and frustration.
"Look, Theron," he began, his tone softer but firm, "you need to rethink your plan. The dark elf king is vengeful, and it won't be long before you're hunted down if you make the wrong move."
Theron paused briefly, her back to him, before turning her head slightly. "I'll be careful. I won't get killed."
Bors took a step closer, his brows furrowing. "Careful doesn't cut it. Do you have *any* idea what the dark elves will do when they're angry? This isn't just about you, Theron."
She spun around to face him, her eyes blazing. "I'm not canceling the mission."
Bors's composure cracked. His voice rose, echoing through the tavern. "IT'S THE SAFER CHOICE YOU HAVE! IT'S EITHER THAT OR GET KILLED THE SECOND YOU WALK OUT OF HERE! *DON'T* THROW YOUR LIFE AWAY FOR SOME DAMN GLORY AND ACHIEVEMENTS YOU WON'T EVEN LIVE TO SEE!"
Theron clenched her fists. "I know what I'm doing, Bors. Don't feel threatened."
Bors growled in frustration, taking another step closer. "The dark elf king isn't just some warlord. He's one of the most powerful figures in the Shadow Realm. There are *rumors* that he's under the protection of a *dragon*, Theron! A *dragon*! Do you even understand what you're walking into?"
Theron's expression didn't waver. She cut him off, her voice cold and final. "I'm done with this conversation, Bors."
Bors slammed his fist into the doorframe, making the entire tavern shudder. "You're not some hardened assassin who can slip away unscathed, Theron. One mistake, and you'll drag us all down with you."
Bors's expression hardened as he stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over Theron. His voice was low but sharp, filled with both frustration and pleading.
"You're not a one-man army, Theron. Assassinating the dark elf king is *not* necessary. There's a reason The Giant clan isn't fighting them," he said, gesturing emphatically. "We've survived because we know our limits."
He exhaled deeply, his tone softening slightly. "Please, drop the act, Theron. Just...admit you're in danger. There's no shame in stepping back."
Theron's hands clenched into fists, trembling slightly as she turned back toward him. Her fiery gaze locked onto his, a dangerous determination burning in her eyes.
"Who are you talking to right now, Bors? Who do you *think* I am?" she said, her voice icy and calm, a stark contrast to her boiling anger.
"I am one of the *best assassins* in the Frontier," she continued, her voice rising with each word, "and I've lived up to that name time and time again. You think I can't handle this? That I don't know what I'm doing?"
Her lips curled into a defiant smirk. "I could *wipe out their entire species* if I wanted to, Bors. But I'm not doing this for some shallow glory. I have my *own reasons*—reasons far beyond what your cowardice could ever grasp."
Bors opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, her voice venomous and unyielding.
"Let me clue you in, Bors. I am not in danger," she hissed, her voice dropping to an almost predatory growl. "*I am the danger.*"
She took a step closer, her intensity palpable. "You think I'm some mere prey for the dark elves? No, Bors. *I'm the one who hunts.*"
The tavern fell silent, every soldier holding their breath as her words hung in the air like a storm about to break.
Bors stared at her, his jaw tightening, his frustration slowly giving way to resignation. "You're as stubborn as ever, Theron," he muttered. "Just...don't make me regret letting you walk out of here."
Without another word, Theron turned and stormed out, leaving the tavern in tense silence. Bors sat heavily in a chair, rubbing his temples as the rest of the soldiers exchanged worried glances.
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