Chapter 156: Springing The Trap!

Chapter 156: Springing The Trap!

Ecdy watched the informant's retreating figure vanish into the shadows, his mind churning with possibilities. The man's sudden appearance and the cryptic message he delivered had left more questions than answers. Could this really be a trap? His instincts screamed yes. Beside him, Nymff was silent, her sharp eyes scanning the path ahead. She, too, was ready for action.

"Let's move," Ecdy whispered, his voice low and urgent. "We can't let him get away."

Nymff gave a curt nod after finally knowing Ecdy's decision, and the two set off, their footsteps light and deliberate. They wove through the camp like shadows, every movement calculated to avoid detection. The dim torchlight flickered along the paths, casting distorted silhouettes on the walls.

The informant moved quickly but not hurriedly, his pace just shy of suspicious. He was heading toward the eastern exit, the least guarded point of the camp. It was a route designed for stealthy departures—perfect for someone with something to hide.

As they closed in, Ecdy exchanged a tense glance with Nymff. If he reached the camp's perimeter, the situation would escalate. He'd be harder to track, blending seamlessly into the surrounding terrain, and could seize the initiative in an attack.

Once outside, the advantage would be his, and pursuing him without drawing unwanted attention would become nearly impossible.

Without a word, Ecdy nodded, confirming the unspoken agreement going on between the two of them. And as if on cue, they both raised their spears, their muscles tensing in unison as they unleashed the spears.

The moment was silent, almost serene, as their weapons sailed through the air with deadly precision. But just as the spears were about to strike their target, the informant moved.

It wasn't a dodge. It wasn't even a conscious maneuver. As if he had eyes at the back of his head—he reacted instinctively. His head barely turned, his right hand snapping up in a fluid motion. In an instant, the air around him seemed to chill, a sharp, biting cold that made Ecdy's breath catch.

The spears froze mid-flight. A brittle crack echoed as they shattered into glittering shards of ice upon hitting the ground.

Ecdy and Nymff skidded to a halt, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and dawning realization. The informant turned slowly, a smug smile curling his lips, his posture relaxed but exuding a quiet menace.

"Level 3," Ecdy muttered, the words laced with both recognition and frustration.

"Figures," Nymff replied, her voice tight. "Only a Level 3 or higher could pull off something like that."

In Rhemon's twisted hierarchy, strength was ranked inversely: the lower the number, the more lethal the agent. Levels 6, 5, and 4 were reserved for enhanced grunts—brutal enforcers who relied on sheer physical power. They were powerful but predictable, But Levels 3, 2, and 1?

They were monsters in human form, wielding abilities that defied logic and operated in a league of their own. Their powers transcended rational thought, pushing the boundaries of what was considered humanly possible.

This was the result of Rhemon's ruthless program, designed to imbue supernatural abilities into mortal bodies. The process was as brutal as it was unforgiving, with a staggeringly high mortality rate. Synchronization with these powers was a near-impossible feat—out of every 1,000 test subjects, only two or three survived. The rest, 998 or 997 lives, were snuffed out in pursuit of perfection.

Ecdy's eye twitched involuntarily, a subtle but telling sign of his mounting tension. The informant's smug demeanor confirmed their worst fears. He wasn't merely a messenger; he was the bait—and possibly the trap itself. Worse still, he was the leader of the Rhemon agents present, the embodiment of their devilish acts.

"Looks like you figured it out," the man said, his voice smooth, almost taunting. "You should've stayed put, though. Now you've made things… interesting."

Ecdy's jaw tightened. "You're playing a dangerous game."

The informant chuckled darkly. "Danger is the only game worth playing." He spread his arms, the air around him shimmering with an icy chill. "You dared to defy Lord Rhemon, sheltering fugitives meant to serve as his test subjects—tools to expand his army. Your interference suggests you have the means to resist. So, let's see if you're as formidable as you believe."

Before Ecdy or Nymff could respond, the informant thrust his hand forward, unleashing a wave of frost. The air turned bitterly cold as the temperature plummeted, and the ground beneath them iced over in an instant.

"Watch out!" Ecdy shouted, diving to the side. Nymff mirrored his move, narrowly evading the frost wave that struck a nearby tree, transforming it into a fragile, crystalline sculpture.

This was no ordinary battle—it would take everything they had to survive.

An alarm blared through the camp as a swarm of agents descended upon them. Level 5 and 6 grunts surged from every direction, encircling them in a tightening ring of hostility. Ecdy's eyes flicked briefly around, assessing the situation, but his focus quickly returned to the Level 3 informant standing a few yards ahead. The lower-ranked agents were a nuisance, formidable in numbers but ultimately manageable. The true threat stood calm and composed, exuding quiet menace—a wolf among sheep.

The odds had just shifted, and not in their favor.

Ecdy's focus remained locked on the Level 3 agent. In his eyes, this was the only true threat. He had fought in countless battles alongside Tessa and Adrian, mastering his skills through fire and blood. Though he was human with no supernatural powers, his prowess as a seasoned Rhemonic warrior was undeniable. Strength didn't solely reside in abilities; it was forged through experience and sheer will.

Nymff, on the other hand, was a force of nature. With a sword, she was extraordinary; with a spear, nearly unbeatable. The agents surrounding them were mostly fodder—meat shields meant to wear them down. But the real danger stood before them, the lone Level 3. Fortunately, he was the only one of his rank here. Any more, and survival would have been a grim prospect.

The camp echoed with the sounds of chaos—shouts, the clash of weapons, and the distant roar of death and gore. It was clear the agents had launched a full-scale attack. Ecdy's thoughts flicked briefly to the others: Abdel, the twins Lhize and Lhaze, and the remaining Rhemonic warriors. They could handle themselves against the onslaught.

For now, survival rested on him and Nymff. Staying alive and neutralizing the immediate threat—that was the mission.

""Alright, let's dance," Ecdy muttered, his voice low and steely. With a swift motion, he drew another spear as effortlessly as a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. It gleamed menacingly in his grip, a weapon ready for war. Like Tessa, he carried a few retractable spears, cleverly hidden in the compartments of his waist belt—tools of survival honed for moments like this.

The first wave of attackers, the few Level 4, and the abundant Level 5 and 6 agents, surged forward with reckless confidence. They had no reason to hold back. To them, Ecdy and Nymff were mere mortals—neither of them wielding the god-like powers of Tessa or Adrian. Easy prey.

Their mistake.