Ambush in the Alley

(Finally caught up with the progress! Thank you all for your support! Thanks!)

After completing the transactions for the two types of wine he had temporarily named the Moonlight Series, Donald finally remembered the matter regarding the attendant William. He found a mage responsible for the daily management of the clubhouse and only then learned the reason why the man had been dismissed.

As it turned out, ever since Donald defeated the Black Iron Mage Snow Mage, that Snow Mage and his good friend, the mage Naron, had temporarily lost the face to come to the clubhouse and endure the mockery of the many mages there.

In reality, because the two of them were narrow-minded and fond of envying talented young apprentices, the various mages at the clubhouse did not like them much, so few mages associated with them. Since many of the young mages at the clubhouse had struggled their way up from being apprentices, they had endured no small amount of harassment from these two back in the day. Furthermore, some junior mages who had been scolded by them in the past had now reached or even surpassed their level, so they naturally would not give these two any pleasant looks.

The previous two times Donald had caused Naron and Snow Mage to lose face, these two naturally harbored resentment in their hearts. However, the other party was a red-hot rising star among the mages of North Shire, backed by a teacher like Messer and the care of a crowd of mages of various levels, so they naturally dared not launch any retaliation. Even if they did take action, they might not necessarily be Donald's match. After all, he had been able to defeat a peak Black Iron Mage back when he was an apprentice; although the victory had been somewhat opportunistic, it was a fact nonetheless. Now that Donald had advanced to a formal mage, his strength had likely increased significantly.

For this period of time, these two had acted like thieves, only venturing to the clubhouse when they calculated that most mages were busy, so that they would have no chance of bumping into others and having to endure strange looks and ridicule.

Yet they could not afford not to go to the clubhouse, as they both had their own experiments and cultivation to conduct. The resources within the clubhouse were incomparable to what they possessed themselves.

Having inadvertently heard other attendants say that the attendant William was highly regarded by the genius mage Donald and that their relationship was quite good, they developed a malicious intent in their hearts.

While others might love the house and its crow, these two, because of their inability to resolve the anger they felt toward Donald, happened to have the attendant William walk right into their trap. He was innocently used as a scapegoat and driven out of the clubhouse by the two mages under a pretext.

Given their strength, they could of course easily kill an ordinary person. Although such matters were resisted by the majority of mages, it was not as if the two of them had never done so in secret. However, there were many mages in the clubhouse, making it difficult to hide secrets. If a life were lost, it would inevitably attract the attention of other mages, and if Donald were to intervene, or even if Messer were to inquire, the matter would likely be difficult to resolve.

Therefore, although the attendant William was innocently implicated, he was also fortunate enough to escape a disaster.

"I did not kill Boren, yet Boren died because of me! Those two old geezers, Naron and Snow Mage, are truly detestable..."

Knowing that William had been implicated because of him, Donald felt even more uneasy. Thus, through an attendant who was well-acquainted with William, Donald found the address of William's home.

The civilian district of the outer city of Giant Stone City.

Most of the people living in that area were middle-class families with some skills to make a living and a small surplus. The closer one got to the wealthy district, the better the family backgrounds of the small merchants and lower-level officials and their families living there. Connected to the civilian district, toward the more remote areas, lay the even more destitute slums.

Life for some families in the city's slums was even worse than that of farmers in the countryside; although farmers tilling land for a lord were weary, they could at least fill their stomachs. In the slums, people would do anything to survive; many young children had become pickpockets, and those with the opportunity to get ahead had long since left. This was the root cause of why the slums had always been dirty and chaotic.

Due to the direction, Donald's carriage had to pass through the edge of the slum area to reach the location of William's home in the civilian district. Along the way, he lifted the curtain of the carriage window to observe scenes he had never seen in this world.

"Is this a slum? It seems that behind prosperity, there are always dark corners. Even in the modern metropolises of my previous life, there were shantytowns, and even the so-called 'ant tribe.' In this society, which resembles the Middle Ages, such a situation is even more unavoidable!"

Looking at the black, thin children curled up on the ground by the side of the road, barely covered in rags, and those adults whose eyes were like those of starving wolves, he could see hunger, envy, greed, and malice in those eyes.

Donald was not an ordinary, naive young noble ignorant of the world, and he would not go up to offer alms just because he sympathized with these people. Because unless he could save everyone at once, a single Silver Moon of charity might cost the other person their life.

Moreover, these people in the slums were not merely poor, pitiful souls; they harbored a large number of thieves, swindlers, and even escaped prisoners, as well as truly murderous desperadoes. Even the ordinary poor were not kind-hearted people; those who are pitiful must have something detestable about them.

If a youth like him were to be left alone on this street, he would likely be knocked unconscious with a club and have everything valuable on him stolen! Such a scenario would be the best outcome; if he encountered those who were ruthless and feared retaliation, they would finish him off with a blade, and before long, his corpse would be found in a dark alley or a sewer!

Therefore, seeing a few more homeless vagrants ahead, and observing their eyes—devoid of any ripples, dull and numb—Donald's mood did not change. As for helping people, he would wait until he had sufficiently powerful strength!

The carriage was about to pass by those vagrants on the side of the road when Donald's expression suddenly changed.

Wait! Something seemed wrong. The eyes?

That was it; that fellow's eyes did not have the despair and numbness of the slum's native inhabitants.

Thinking of this, Donald immediately became cautious and gave a look to Clinton, who had remained alert.

This infantry captain, who had been instilled with rich combat experience by the Book of Truth, immediately shifted his aura. However, with his strong adaptability, he did not directly stick his head out to look around, but instead listened carefully to the movements outside, his left hand resting on the carriage seat while his right hand had already gripped the hilt of his sword.

Although the sounds outside remained the same, Donald felt as if the area around the carriage had fallen into an eerie silence.

"Whoosh! Whoosh!" A few sounds of breaking air rang out, and a series of crossbow bolts from both sides shot straight toward the carriage, targeting the people inside.

"Pfft! Pfft!"

The black, sharp arrows quickly pierced through the thin wooden walls of the carriage, yet no screams came from within.

The scene seemed to go quiet for a split second, and then those vagrants who had emptied their crossbows leaped up like clever rabbits and agile apes, drawing weapons hidden in their tattered clothes and rushing toward the carriage.

With a "Boom!", the carriage cabin, which had already been shot through with several holes, suddenly shattered, revealing the fully alert infantry captain Clinton and his master Donald, who was holding a staff and surrounded by a mage armor made of transparent white light.

The master and servant, who were the targets surrounded by multiple assassins, did not panic; even Donald, who was facing such a situation for the first time, remained relatively calm.

When these assassin killers were already within a few steps, Donald, holding two magic cores in his hand, timed it perfectly and shouted:

"Come out, Gargoyle, Crypt Fiend!"

Just as those assassins were about to step forward to eliminate their targets, they saw a black-purple, hideous gargoyle and a blue-gray, giant, ferocious spider suddenly appear before their eyes.

The spider launched its attack first, meeting them with a sheet of sticky white web dripping with green liquid, clearly containing toxins. There were five assassins attacking from both sides; the three on the Crypt Fiend's side were unable to dodge in time and were trapped by the sticky web, and next, they would have to face the giant spider's sharp mouthparts and legs.

Although these two unit types both belonged to the Undead, the former was an alchemical construct, while the latter was a type of spider-like monster known as a Web-spinner in the game, which had joined the Undead to serve after being conquered by the Lich King; in reality, they were not undead creatures. Therefore, Donald had no qualms about summoning them. After all, the reputation of necromancers in human kingdoms was not exactly pleasant!

The Tier 3 unit Crypt Fiend not only possessed significant poison and physical damage but could also burrow and possessed the ability to spit a massive web. Its overall strength was infinitely close to that of a Tier 4 magic beast of Bronze strength in this world.

Caught by the sticky, massive web, even a Tier 5 warrior would be unable to break free quickly, let alone these assassins whose average combat power was only around mid-Black Iron, who specialized in assassination and sneak attacks, and whose head-on combat ability was not particularly brilliant.

"Mission failed, retreat!" Seeing three companions captured in the blink of an eye and about to lose their lives to the monster's mouth, the two assassins on the other side turned and ran, shouting at the same time.

Hearing the call of the two assassins, two figures flashed from the roofs of the houses on both sides, and the four people scattered and retreated in all directions like startled birds.

"Nice try! Gargoyle, give chase..."

Seeing the intruders about to escape, Donald was furious. The Gargoyle guarding his side came to life, spreading its demon-like bat wings, and ascended into the sky with a screech, following its master's orders to hunt down the two enemies fleeing on the rooftops.

As for the two assassins on the ground, he and the infantry captain Clinton would each take one.

With a thought, the two assassins had already run a dozen steps, but Donald remained unhurried, uttering a spell and pointing his staff at one of the targets.

"Mage Hand!"

An invisible hand with a force of over ten kilograms blocked the path in front of the running assassin's ankle. Caught between the opposing forces, the assassin instantly lost his balance and crashed to the ground. Donald paid him no mind, leaving Clinton to step forward and handle the situation. He turned his focus toward another assassin still on the run.

"Magic Missile!"

The Magic Missile, possessing target-tracking capabilities and guaranteed accuracy, instantly struck the assassin in the back, causing him to stumble. However, the attack power of a Magic Missile has always been low; against a mid-stage Black Iron target, it barely deals any significant damage, causing at most a minor injury unless it strikes a vital point.

Immediately following this, Donald released another spell.

"Daze!"

This was a zero-level spell. Although he was not very familiar with it, Donald managed to cast it quickly now that his level had increased. Struck by the missile and suddenly dazed, the assassin swayed and collapsed to the ground. By this time, Clinton, having dealt with the previous assassin, ran over to subdue this one as well.

Returning to the ruined carriage with the two captives, they found the coachman already collapsed on the ground in terror.

As it turned out, when the initial attack occurred, a furious Donald had not ordered the Crypt Fiends to hold back, so the three assassins trapped by the spider webs had already been reduced to piles of fragments.

At this moment, a Gargoyle also flew back, clutching a person whose limbs were a bloody mess. As for the other one, according to the Gargoyle, the fellow had burrowed beneath a house; as an aerial unit, the Gargoyle could not continue the pursuit, so it had only brought one back.

This was the first time Donald had witnessed actual killing. Although he had not done it himself, the psychological pressure was still significant.

Forcing back his nausea, Donald ordered Clinton to gather the three assassins together. The one brought back by the Gargoyle was on the verge of death due to the excessive force used, and it was unlikely any information could be extracted from him.

Pointing his staff at one of the two remaining assassins, Donald asked, "Who sent you? Tell me, and I will spare your life!"

The assassin was quite stubborn and didn't even blink. Donald, seeing this, was not anxious; he pointed toward the Crypt Fiend and the pile of mangled bones and flesh in front of it.

"If you don't want to become that thing's dinner, I suggest you start talking quickly!"

Seeing the terrifying appearance of the Crypt Fiend, which was enough to make even powerful warriors shudder, along with the miserable fate of their three companions, both assassins felt their hearts turn cold with fear. One of them clearly showed signs of terror and hesitation.

"I'll talk, just don't let the monster eat me! We are from the Blac..."

Before the frightened, weak-willed assassin could finish, a poison needle shot from his companion's mouth pierced his throat. His damaged vocal cords could no longer speak, only emitting a wheezing sound as he struggled for a few moments before dying.

Donald had not expected the assassin, whose limbs had been broken, to still have the strength to retaliate. Clinton immediately shielded his master, pressing his steel sword against the assassin's throat, ready to end the fellow's life at the slightest sign of movement.

However, before a stunned Donald could ask again, the last assassin bit down on a hidden poison capsule in his mouth. Black liquid flowed from the corners of his lips, his body twitched slightly, and he soon drew his final breath.

"Damn it, now there's only one living witness left!"

He had not expected that what was portrayed in movies would actually happen right before his eyes. These fellows were no ordinary assassins; they were clearly death-sworn agents trained by some faction, which explained their decisive actions.

Who could it be, wanting me dead so badly that they would even send death-sworn agents to assassinate me?

While Donald was lost in confusion, several figures flew through the air from the direction of the noble district in the city center, quickly arriving at the scene of the incident.