The second-floor hall of the Red Rose Brothel.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! The shrill whistle of arrows tearing through the air was especially piercing within the brothel's lavish hall.
The place that had once been resplendent and decadent, filled with indulgence and debauchery, had now become a slaughterhouse steeped in bloodshed.
With his back against the wall, Berg drew and fired his bow. Iron arrows shot forth like meteors, piercing through the heads of one burly thug after another and spraying filthy blood everywhere.
His movements flowed like water, without the slightest hesitation, as if he were not killing fellow humans but fleeing beasts.
It was not as though no one had tried to resist, but before this cold-blooded Hunter, their resistance was far too feeble.
Three powerfully built thugs charged at him together in a rage, weapons in hand. Yet before they could reach Berg, one had an arrow through his eye, another had his throat nailed through, while the third turned to flee in terror—only to be pierced through the backside and collapse amid a miserable howl.
"Right, there's no need to shoot fleeing people in that spot."
The youth, killing his own kind for the first time, smacked his forehead. A trace of regret crossed his still somewhat childish face.
Though perhaps he should have regretted the thug's suffering instead. In his eyes, anyone who could make his merciful and kind lord this angry was an evil wretch who deserved death even after suffering every punishment in the world.
He merely regretted that iron arrow worth several Copper Sol. It could not be retrieved and reused now.
With a sigh, Berg pulled blood-spattered arrows from the corpses strewn across the floor and placed them into the empty quiver on his back.
Though he had killed quite a few