Re: In My Bloody Hit Novel - Chapter 432

Chapter 432: For the prince!
It was not long that news of their togetherness spread around the town, and there were even news that they would seal their relationship in holy matrimony.

However, because of all these things happening, no one noticed that Deamon was gathering information and feeding it to his men outside using a special means. And then it happened. The set day arrived, catching them unawares like a thief in the night.

Under the moonless night, Deamon’s ten men moved silently through the dense forest that bordered the town of Aldren. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, each footstep cushioned by the carpet of fallen needles. In the distance, the murmur of the dam’s rushing waters provided a constant reminder of their mission’s urgency.

Clad in the coarse, simple garments of traveling merchants, Deamon’s men had spent many days preparing for this night. Their disguises were carefully chosen—worn tunics, dirt-streaked faces, and the rough hands of men who had known hard labor.

They carried crates filled with supposed wares, each box hiding vials of a potent poison that could seep into the dam’s water supply and bring the town to its knees.

The town of Aldren was fortified, its stone walls looming against the night sky. Torches flickered along the ramparts, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets below. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter, their armor clinking softly with each step. The gates, imposing and heavily guarded, were their first challenge.

Garek, Deamon’s second in command signaled his men to halt as they approached the edge of the forest. He scanned the area, his sharp eyes catching the movement of a patrol passing by.

The scent of roasted meat wafted from within the town, mingling with the distant laughter of its inhabitants, oblivious to the danger lurking in the darkness.

“We wait for the signal,” Garek whispered, his voice barely audible. Garek’s own second-in-command, a burly man named Goko, nodded in response, his face set in grim determination.

Moments later, a soft hoot of an owl echoed through the trees—three short, one long. It was their cue. The town’s ally, Deamon himself, had created a diversion at the far end of the town. It was a town fire. One at the Clinic.

The guards, distracted, rushed toward the disturbance, leaving the gate momentarily less fortified.

Moving swiftly, Deamon’s men approached the gate. Two of them, agile and silent, scaled the wall with grappling hooks, securing ropes for the others to follow.

Garek’s heart pounded in his chest as he climbed, the rough stone scraping against his palms. Every breath he took was measured, his senses heightened to any sound that might signal their discovery.

At the top, they crouched, hidden in the shadows. Below, the town lay in a deceptive tranquility. The dim light from windows illuminated snippets of life—a woman closing her shutters, a child chasing a stray cat, unaware of the menacing presence above.

Garek signaled again, and his men began their descent into the town, sticking to the shadows. They moved through narrow alleys, avoiding the main thoroughfares where the torchlight was brightest.

The crates they carried were heavy, the contents sloshing with each careful step. The sound of their own breathing was deafening in the silence, each heartbeat a reminder of the stakes.

As they approached the dam, the air grew cooler, the sound of water more pronounced. The dam stood as a monumental barrier, its structure imposing even in the darkness. Guards were stationed at intervals, but they appeared relaxed, their vigilance dulled by the routine of their watch.

Deamon had studied these people and knew those that were weakest and useless at their shifts. That was why this time was chosen.

Garek split his men into small groups, each assigned a different task. Some were to distract the guards with subtle noises and movements, while others prepared the vials.

The poison, a dark, viscous liquid, was contained in glass bottles, each sealed tightly. Garek could feel the weight of his own vial pressing against his side, a constant reminder of the mission’s gravity.

Goko approached the nearest guard, his movements smooth and practiced. “Evening,” he said, his voice carrying the friendly tone of a weary traveler. “Mind if I rest here a moment?”

The guard eyed him suspiciously but saw nothing amiss in the disheveled figure before him. “Be quick about it,” he grumbled, turning his gaze back to the water.

In that moment of distraction, Garek and the others moved swiftly. They uncorked the vials, the pungent odor of the poison momentarily filling the air before they poured the liquid into the dam’s intake. The dark substance spread through the water, invisible in the night, but lethal nonetheless.

The mission was almost complete, but the true test lay in their escape. Deamon, who had navigated his way to be with them once more signaled for retreat, and the men began to move back toward the wall, their steps as silent as they had been upon arrival. The diversion had ended, and the guards were returning to their posts, their suspicion not yet fully aroused.

Reaching the wall, Deamon climbed first, his muscles straining with the effort. The night air was cold against his sweat-dampened skin. One by one, his men followed, each movement deliberate, each breath held.

As the last man climbed over, a shout rang out from below. A guard had noticed the ropes. “Intruders!” he bellowed, the alarm spreading like wildfire.

Deamon and his men dropped to the ground outside the wall, the urgency of their mission lending speed to their flight. They disappeared into the forest, the town of Aldren now behind them, unaware of the silent doom that had been set in motion.

The scent of pine and earth once again surrounded them, mingling with the adrenaline of their escape. Deamon glanced back at the distant walls of Aldren, a sense of grim settling over him. The prince would be pleased. The dam was poisoned, and with it, the fate of the town and one half of the beast kingdom was sealed. But at the same time, the image of her face remained in his mind.

He took a look at a blade by his side, it was still stained with her blood. “For the prince!” He muttered to himself.