The One Called a Demon Child

Izroth repeated his process several times until finally, Vault's body began to dissipate.

He placed his hand over the mystical chains and returned it to his inventory as he sheathed his Sword of The Storm.

'As I thought, it's not enough to quell your hatred, is it?'

Every time Izroth saw Vault, he wanted nothing more than to tear him limb from limb and erase his soul from existence for all eternity. However, he understood that now was not the right time to move in the real world.

In the end, it was not just Vault he had to worry about, but the people that supported him in the shadows as well. After all, for the Headhunter Syndicate to grow this quickly and compete against other established top guilds required a massive amount of monetary capital. It was not something Vault or his family alone could afford; therefore, they must have backers with deep pockets, and deep pockets usually equated to a strong hand.