Meanwhile, Saoirse and Veil had yet to part ways when they received word that a hit had been ordered on Roy.
"What's going on?" Roy asked, noticing the troubled look clouding Saoirse's face.
Saoirse bit her lip. "Veil, I… I want to ask you for a favor."
Over the course of their relationship, Saoirse had never once asked Veil for a personal favor. Every interaction between them had been built on mutual benefit and interest.
But this time, she couldn't hold back.
Veil smiled and gently pinched her cheek. "Go on. What is it?"
Saoirse let out a soft sigh. "Kosdy Murphy has put a price on Roy's head. He's hired enforcers from my Black Dragon Society to get it done. But Roy… he once caused a scene at the Queen's Bar and took down nearly thirty men all by himself. And I'm certain that wasn't even his full strength.
This time, I want you to be on standby—if things don't go as planned, I want you to kill him."
Originally, the incident at Queen's Bar should've been the moment when Roy and Saoirse crossed paths—perhaps even formed a connection. But because of Veil's sudden appearance, things had turned hostile instead.
And since then, the grudge between Roy and the Black Dragon Society had only deepened. Saoirse didn't want Roy to keep breathing. She was determined to strike this time.
But what truly worried her was the possibility that Roy might survive. If he did, both she and her father could be in grave danger.
There could be no room for error.
Veil's brow furrowed. Kosdy Murphy was already making his move?
There were still things he hadn't done—villain points he hadn't collected!
But Roy was, after all, the child of destiny. If Kosdy missed this chance and Roy managed to escape overseas, then even Veil would have a hard time getting another opportunity.
"It's okay," Saoirse said, seeing his hesitation. "This is my decision. Roy's not someone ordinary people can handle. Even for you, it could be dangerous."
She didn't feel disappointed by his reaction—in fact, it seemed perfectly reasonable.
After all, Veil was the heir of the Lancaster family. Why would he risk his life for her?
She had been presumptuous.
"Don't say that!" Veil's expression changed, his tone filled with urgency as he looked into her eyes. "You're saying the Black Dragon Society is going all in this time? No matter the cost, you're going to take Roy down? You'll be there too?"
Saoirse nodded slightly. "Yes. The last time Roy caused a scene at the Queen's Bar, he crippled many of our elite fighters. Some of them will never walk again.
For the Black Dragon Society, that was a direct slap in the face. If we don't kill him, we'll lose all credibility."
In their world, loyalty and honor were everything. Her men had been broken and humiliated. If their leader stayed silent, who would be willing to follow her in the future?
Neither Saomi nor Saoirse could let this chance go to waste.
Veil's teasing demeanor faded. He reached out and gently caressed the smooth curve of Saoirse's cheek, his expression tender and sincere.
"Saoirse… I didn't want you involved in this mess. It's too dangerous. But seeing the way you look right now, so serious and determined—I can't bring myself to stop you.
Go. If it's something you've decided to do, then I'll support you with everything I have. No matter the time, no matter the place—wherever you are, I'll be there.
And I'll give everything I have to protect you."
"…"
Saoirse's beautiful eyes rippled with emotion. She looked at Veil's earnest face, dazed, and deeply moved.
There was guilt too—she had asked him for something so unreasonable, something that disregarded his status and safety. Yet not only did he not scold her, he chose to support her unconditionally.
His warmth… his acceptance… even she couldn't help but be touched.
Maybe—just maybe—she really had met the one she was meant to spend the rest of her life with.
...
One Day Later, At Night .
The moon hung high above the mountain, casting eerie shadows through the wind-blown trees. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, laced with a sharp, grassy tang—like fresh blades crushed underfoot.
Roy frowned, casting a sidelong glance at Kosdy Murphy. "Mr. Murphy, your son is being held here? Doesn't seem like anyone lives around this place."
All he saw was desolate wilderness. Barren hills, scattered tombstones, and not a single dwelling in sight—not even a thatched hut.
Kosdy forced a bitter smile, sighing heavily. "Mr. Roy, I truly appreciate your help. Even though I've brought several of our family's bodyguards, I can't put my full trust in their judgment. According to reliable sources, Damon Murphy was taken by those kidnappers and hidden somewhere in this area. As for the exact location, I'm afraid I don't know. I was hoping you might help search."
Kosdy's expression might have been pitiful, but inwardly, he seethed with fury. He knew exactly what Roy was thinking.
Of course Damon wasn't here. The others might be clueless, but Roy—being the murderer—would know better than anyone else. That casual, disinterested look only confirmed it.
Kosdy's hatred burned through every fiber of his being. The more indifferent Roy acted, the more certain Kosdy became—this man killed his son!
"I'll head up and take a look," Roy said coolly, shaking his head. He didn't argue further and began making his way up the mountain, a group of bodyguards silently following behind.
Roy felt cursed lately. Things had been spiraling into chaos. Honestly, he was already bracing for another fruitless night.
He sighed. The string of misfortunes weighed heavily—diarrhea after a cold sweat, a ghost encounter while fishing, being extorted by an old lady after a bump on the street, and a bizarre incident where he tried saving a bullied little girl, only to get slapped by her. Turns out the "villain" bullying her was actually her twisted version of Prince Charming. The little brat had that seductive, faux-innocent thing going on even at her age.
Lost in thought, they ventured deeper into the mountain.
Suddenly, something shifted.
A strange, invisible tension settled over the woods. Roy's instincts kicked in. Every hair on his body stood on end.
Danger.
He didn't know how, but his body knew it first—an uncanny sixth sense honed by a life of walking on the razor's edge. For mercenaries like him, that gut feeling had saved his life more times than he could count.
He turned his head, about to warn the others—when a cold gleam flashed before his eyes. A blade. Fast and silent. Slashing straight for the artery in his neck.
A kill strike.
Greed drives men mad.
Kosdy had put out a bounty—one hundred million for Roy's head. Any one of the bodyguards who succeeded could walk away with a fortune. Enough to drink and screw away the rest of their days in lavish pleasure.
Who could resist?
"You want to die?!" Roy roared, his hand snapping out to catch the attacker's wrist mid-strike. With a twist and a flick, he disarmed him, then slashed the man's throat in one clean motion. Blood fountained out, and the man dropped like a stone.
Roy stood, dagger in hand, eyes blazing with fury. "Who sent you?! Kosdy Murphy? Or was it Veil?!"
He faced the remaining twenty or so bodyguards. His glare was enough to make lesser men tremble.
"Get him!"
"Kill him!"
"Don't let him live!"
They didn't answer, only exchanged glances—and then all rushed in.
Roy gave a snort of disdain, flipped his grip on the dagger, and surged forward like a specter of death.
In the frenzied melee, he weaved through the crowd like a phantom. No wasted motion. No mercy.
Each swing of his blade left behind another corpse. The ground grew slick with blood. Bodies collapsed in heaps.
They never stood a chance.
Who was Roy?
Leader of the Blood Wolf Mercenary Corp. A living weapon. A slaughterer of men on countless battlefields. These half-baked guards, who'd never stared down a gun barrel, were no match for him.
Forget awareness—even physically, they weren't one-eighth of his caliber.
Like slicing vegetables, he cut them down one after another.
Five minutes.
That's all it took.
In less than five minutes, every bodyguard Kosdy had brought was dead.
Roy cracked his neck, the sharp crunch echoing in the quiet night. His eyes gleamed cold and predatory—like a wolf ready to pounce.
"Kosdy Murphy… you've got some fucking nerve."
He had never suffered such disgrace.
He had come here out of goodwill—to help. And yet, Kosdy had tried to have him slaughtered like a dog?
Just because Kosdy was a billionaire in Veyport, did he think he was untouchable?
Roy had killed government officials overseas. What made Kosdy think he'd survive?
Roy began striding down the mountain, murder in his gaze. He wanted to see exactly what else Kosdy had planned.
If he thought this ragtag ambush could kill Roy, he was gravely mistaken.
He'd tear apart every layer of Kosdy's setup—one by one. Then, with a blade in hand, he'd carve regret into Kosdy's skin… slowly… until the man died screaming in agony.
But he had barely taken a few steps when more figures began to emerge from the trees.
Some bore the unmistakable dragon tattoos of the Black Dragon Society. Others moved like shadows—professional killers in night gear, flitting through the dark with terrifying speed.
Roy's eyes narrowed, but he grinned.
"Come on then," he growled. "Tonight, I'll show you all what death looks like!"
Without hesitation, he charged straight into the horde.
The scent of blood began to spread—thick and heavy.
…
Far away, on a cliff overlooking the battlefield, Veil sat casually with a pair of binoculars, clicking his tongue in amusement.
"Damn, this Roy's tough. He's killed at least fifty people already, and he's only lightly wounded?"
He couldn't help but admire the man. No wonder he was a child of destiny—hard to kill, no doubt about it.
If it had been Veil's own men in the ambush, they'd be dead to the last. Thankfully, tonight's cannon fodder belonged to someone else. Veil was more than happy to just enjoy the show.
Saoirse, clad in a tight black leather outfit, lowered her binoculars with trembling fingers. Her face had gone pale.
"Roy's terrifying… Are we really going to be able to kill him tonight?"
She had sent her best men from the Black Dragon Society. They were well-armed, well-trained. And still, they had fallen like sheep before a wolf.
If Roy didn't die tonight… tomorrow, it might be her and her family lying dead.
"Relax," Veil said gently, wrapping an arm around her slender waist. "It's not over yet. The real killers haven't even shown themselves. These guys? Just the appetizer."
He wasn't talking about himself.
No, Kosdy Murphy, that desperate fool, had spent an ungodly amount of money to bring in a few top-tier assassins.
They hadn't revealed themselves yet—but Veil could already see their heat signatures through the infrared on his scope.
If he didn't have this equipment, he might've been fooled too.
And so the bloodbath continued—under the black, howling sky.