Chapter 97 Ronan’s Doubt
The heavy steel broadsword cleaved the air just inches from the throat of the mercenary commander. Ronan twisted his torso to evade the lethal strike and drove his coated blade into the exposed ribcage of the Ashguard defender. The guardsman collapsed onto the slick grating of the eastern wall. The night sky offered no comfort as the brutal close quarters melee stretched into its seventh grueling hour.
Ronan stepped back from the front line to catch his breath. His twin blades were slick with blood. His boiled leather armor bore a dozen shallow cuts. The mass agility blessing granted by the Obsidian Cartel was fading fast. The green aura flickered and died around the limbs of his assassins.
The loss of the magical speed hit the mercenaries like a physical blow.
