Shadow and Sword

Tales had never heard of Krasu's name, nor could he understand why the man called Fuse had suddenly changed color.

But he knew who Fuse was.

Six years ago, on the Night of Dragon Blood, this very man had stood before Grand Duke Black Sand with a spring in his step, negotiating back and forth with the infamous Chaman Lumba and demanding custody of the Prince of Starfall.

He and the forbidden organization behind him had played an indispensable role in that unprecedented, earth-shaking coup. Whether it was Tales's perilous assassination attempt beneath the fortress, Grand Duke Perfect's desperate confession before his death, or the terrifying moment when the Born King's head fell, their figures seemed to flit through all of it.

They were everywhere, their ghostly shadows overlapping, yet they were shrouded in mystery and left few traces. Every fleeting appearance brought blood and death, leaving onlookers horrified and their victims filled with regret.

And the moment this group appeared again...

Tales took a deep breath, suppressing his unease and anxiety as he focused intently on the man. He did not even have time to heed Kuaishang's meaningful glances.

In the middle of the room, Fuse carefully observed the surrounding mercenaries.

The man solemnly realized that although the killing intent and martial air around them had grown heavier, not one of them, from top to bottom, showed any sign of objection or unusual expression.

He had not lied.

Fuse's heart sank. He really was "Krasu."

This was somewhat beyond imagination.

But...

"So you are this generation's Krasu."

"I have to say, I am somewhat surprised." Fuse turned toward Ricky, his tone becoming cautious and exceedingly wary, as if a thief outside a window were peering at the valuables inside.

"People of high station rarely put themselves in danger."

People