Night Attack!

The group, whose every move revealed their unfamiliarity, made him inexplicably uneasy. Narrowing his eyes, Loki scrutinized the cloaked figures for a moment before nudging one of his friends, who was engrossed in the fervor of drink and conversation. "I don't trust those guys."

Loki's tone unconsciously turned cold, causing his nudged friend to shiver. "W-who, team leader?"

With a nod from Loki, he glanced at the black-cloaked figures in the corner of the tavern, seemingly minding their own business. "Yeah, they look really suspicious!" The man's voice was louder than intended due to the alcohol, catching the attention of a few nearby patrons.

However, what truly unsettled Loki was that the cloaked figures remained unperturbed by the loud remarks, continuing to sit as if no one in the tavern mattered to them. While the tavern's atmosphere buzzed with activity, the four figures moved calmly and with control. Moreover, they were drinking Vinumregnum's famous wine!

"I can't stand it any longer." Trusting his instincts, Loki downed his beer in one gulp, slammed the mug on the table, and stood up, not forgetting to grab his favorite one-handed axe. "This is Hvítreiðr, and no outsider can act high and mighty in this city!"

The commotion he caused silenced the tavern, drawing all attention to him. As Loki walked with firm steps toward the strangers, a cautious expression spread among the patrons.

This wasn't the first time trouble had brewed between locals and outsiders in Hvítreiðr. Over the past two years, numerous ill-intentioned outsiders had caused the townsfolk to develop a deep prejudice against them. Incidents of kidnapping, attempts to destabilize the town, and attacks on a few northerners had left both soldiers and citizens wary of outsiders. Without the events and growing relations with Vinumregnum initiated by Ülgen to ease these prejudices, outsiders might not have been able to stay in Hvítreiðr's taverns for even a second, let alone a few days.

Thus, no one found Loki's attitude bothersome; instead, they were wary of the strangers making a wrong move. Some patrons at nearby tables casually drew their weapons and placed them on the table, ready for any trouble.

When Loki stood before their table, the cloaked figures still appeared uninterested, sipping their wine. This arrogance made Loki's temples throb with anger.

"You outsiders, due to your suspicious appearance and actions, I'm taking you to my superiors for questioning!" As a sergeant with second-degree strength, Loki had such authority.

Of course, if the strangers turned out to be innocent, Loki would face consequences, but the young northerner trusted his instincts completely.

Finally, one of the cloaked figures lifted his head slightly to look at Loki. His eyes, glowing with a red hue, were filled with intense contempt. "Pathetic barbarian, you—" he began, his sentence laced with insults.

But his words were cut off by Loki's swiftly swung axe. The cloaked figure reacted at a speed only a few in the tavern could see, catching the sharp edge with his fingers and chuckling.

As Loki and many others in the tavern stared in shock, the figure stood up. "Hah, while your weapon isn't bad, you're pathetically weak." His shrill voice grated on their ears.

Recovering from his shock, Loki tried to pull back his axe, realizing it felt stuck as if embedded in a rock. "Futile." The word echoed in his ears, the last thing he heard before losing consciousness.

"!!"

A claw mark ran from Loki's right chest to his right eye, sending his body flying into the tavern wall. He slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely. His comrades, seeing his bloodied form, drew their weapons with angry roars and charged at the cloaked figures.

The cloaked figures rose from their table with the same arrogance and disdain. However, they were surprised when the sudden attack stopped abruptly. When they saw the reason, their pale faces contorted.

Four fully armored northerners who exuded a sense of danger had stopped everyone.

The warrior with the sword and shield, who seemed the strongest among them, spoke in a booming voice, "Take that man's body and head to the safe shelters. Inform everyone you see that anyone below the third degree should stay in the shelters until further notice!"

"Blessed warriors!" The reaction from everyone in the tavern was similar. Without disturbing the fully armored warriors, they quickly took Loki's body and began leaving the tavern.

The cloaked figures seemed capable of easily intervening, given their displayed level of power, but they didn't. Their glowing red eyes never left the four warriors.

Once the last person exited the tavern, the warrior with the sword and shield smiled at the cloaked figures. But his smile bore no kindness, only a savage intent to kill. "Just as our lord expected, your actions couldn't be more predictable."

And then, the eight figures clashed. The intensity of their strikes and the energy they emitted indicated that both sides were of the fourth degree.

With their power levels closely matched, neither side held back, causing the tavern to crumble under the force of their attacks. Amidst the scattering dust and debris, the dual-axe warrior found an opening and launched a fierce attack, shredding his opponent's cloak and leaving two large gashes on their body.

"There's only a single peak stage difference between us, how are they all our equals?!" The figure, now fully revealed with a pallid body, shouted after blasting his enemy away with a wave of crimson energy.

With sharp fangs, pale white skin, an aesthetically pleasing face, rapidly healing wounds, and red eyes, there was no need to guess his race. Noticing their comrade had been exposed, the other three also threw off their cloaks.

Due to the destruction of the tavern, both sides had left a small distance between them. The figure who appeared to be the leader of the vampires frowned as he addressed the others. "I can't determine what blood they've been empowered with, but it's definitely something that can push their stages!"

The dragon-blood-blessed warriors laughed mockingly and attacked again. They would never have guessed that their lord was a powerful and majestic white dragon. Therefore, there was no point in talking to these arrogant bloodsuckers.

As the two groups clashed wildly, similar scenes were occurring in many parts of Hvítreiðr. Dozens of vampires were trying to hunt people, while Hvítreiðr's third-degree soldiers and fourth-degree dragon-blooded warriors were blocking them.

The vampires couldn't understand how Hvítreiðr, a city with supposedly only a few years of history, had so many expert warriors and how they appeared to be positioned specifically near them. However, this puzzling situation did not dampen their spirits but rather fueled their desire to win. They had even begun to implement their plans designed to demoralize Hvítreiðr's warriors.

A bald, middle-aged vampire about 1.50 meters tall, clad in a crimson cloak, and exuding a more imposing aura than the others, was one of those executing these plans. He held a staff as tall as himself in one hand and a book in the other.

He wore a calm expression as he watched the vampires and dragon-blooded warriors fighting in front of the chief's hall. When he was within sixty meters of the hall, he struck his staff on the ground and began chanting magical words.

The leader of the dragon-blooded warriors, barely holding back the vampires, roared upon seeing the magical energy gathering around the vampire with the staff. "Stop that bastard before he completes his spell!" He then knocked down the vampire in front of him and plunged his spear into its heart.

The vampire, feeling death approaching as the spear pierced its heart, struggled, but a heavy boot crushing its skull ended its resistance. The dragon-blooded warrior, unable to rejoice in finally killing one of his opponents, quickly withdrew his spear and lunged towards the vampire mage.

He had ordered his soldiers to do the same, but it was obvious they wouldn't be able to eliminate their opponents as quickly as he did.

"Die, you blood-sucking leech!" He leaped meters into the air, aiming a swift thrust at the mage.

"Hah, arrogant!" But it was too late.

The magical waves not only threw the spearman back but also transformed into crimson energy waves that enveloped the vampires. Enveloped by the crimson energy waves, the vampires felt a surge in their power, roaring with delight as they began to overpower the dragon-blooded warriors.

The spearman, upon hitting the ground, wanted to charge at the mage again, but with two newly empowered vampires pouncing on him, he was forced to retreat. Helplessly, he could do nothing but watch as the mage advanced toward the chief's hall, blocked by his enemies.

Seeing that the mage had begun muttering magical words again upon deciding he was close enough to the chief's hall, the dragon-blooded warriors frantically tried to throw off their enemies. However, as the spell was completed, none of them could stop the vampire mage—except for a figure that suddenly burst through the now-open doors of the chief's hall.