The night air over Ashenford was heavy with the scent of blood and smoke. The fires of the day's rebellion still smoldered in broken stalls and collapsed roofs, a reminder of the merchants' desperate uprising. Liam stood on the ruined steps of a burned-out chapel, his hands still sticky with dried blood, his eyes hard as steel.
Beyond the walls of the shattered marketplace, faint drums echoed in the dark.
The Bloodfangs were coming.
The Enemy Approaches
Scouts had returned in ragged terror: a full warband, at least fifty strong, armed with steel scavenged from caravans and armor stripped from corpses. Red paint marked their faces and weapons—blood rituals meant to strike fear before blades even met flesh.
Now their torches flickered in the distance, a line of fire snaking toward Ashenford.
Liam's interface pulsed with a quest update:
[Quest Updated: Market War → The Ashenford Siege]Objective: Defend Ashenford from Bloodfang Retaliation.Failure: Total Market Annihilation, Loss of Reputation.Bonus Objective: Eliminate Bloodfang Captain.
He closed the screen and exhaled slowly. So this is the beast's answer. Good.
The Makeshift Militia
Around him, the merchants prepared. Men and women who had spent years behind stalls now clutched scavenged blades and makeshift spears. Grain sacks had been stacked into barricades. Crates and wagons formed chokepoints. Fire oil, stolen from Bloodfang supplies, had been poured into trenches ready to ignite.
They were not soldiers. They were desperate people clinging to their last chance. But desperation had its own kind of sharpness.
"Hold the barricades," Liam told them, voice carrying over the crowd. "When they break, fall back to the inner stalls. Do not scatter. Do not run. Together, we stand. Alone, you die."
The scarred merchant from earlier—Brennar—raised a rusted axe and shouted, "Together!"
A ragged chorus followed. Fearful, yes. But also fierce.
The Siege Begins
The first Bloodfang war cries split the night like thunder.
They charged in a wave of muscle and steel, torches flaring, teeth bared. The ground trembled beneath their boots.
Liam stood at the front barricade, dagger in one hand, looted steel sword in the other. His heart was steady. His breath calm.
"Now!" he shouted.
The merchants hurled burning brands into the trenches. Flames roared to life, a wall of fire that lit the night and sent shadows dancing across the ruined square. The Bloodfang charge faltered as the fire spread, but their captain—a massive brute wielding a cleaver the size of a door—roared and pushed them forward.
They leapt the flames. The battle began.
Clash of Blood and Fire
Steel rang on steel. Screams tore through the night.
A Bloodfang axe smashed into the barricade, splintering wood. Liam met the attacker with his sword, deflecting the blow, then drove his dagger into the thug's throat. Blood sprayed across the crates. He tore free and kicked the corpse back into the fire.
[You have slain Bloodfang Raider – Level 10][EXP +65]
Another came at him, swinging wildly. Liam sidestepped, used the man's momentum, and slammed him into the spikes hidden behind the barricade.
[Critical Hit!][You have slain Bloodfang Raider – Level 9]
Around him, merchants screamed and fought. Some died quickly, cut down by brutal steel. Others, fueled by rage and survival, brought their clubs and knives down again and again until their enemies stopped moving.
The air filled with the stink of smoke, sweat, and blood.
System Awakening
As Liam fought, his interface blazed with notifications:
Level Up!You are now Level 12.Skill Point +2. Attribute Point +3.New Skill Unlocked: Blade Dance (Passive) – Consecutive strikes grow faster with each hit, stacking up to 5.
A surge of energy flooded him, sharpening his reflexes, lightening his limbs. His blades moved faster, his strikes more precise.
The next Bloodfang that lunged at him never stood a chance. Liam's dagger flickered, one strike, two, three—each faster than the last—until the man collapsed with five wounds carved across his chest.
The merchants who saw it gasped, some whispering in awe. Liam didn't pause. He couldn't.
The Captain Appears
The barricade buckled under the assault. Flames crackled. Screams rose and fell.
Then the Bloodfang Captain entered the fray.
He was a mountain of a man, muscles bulging, red tattoos twisting across his bare chest. His cleaver gleamed in the firelight, already slick with blood.
He smashed aside his own men to reach the barricade, cleaver coming down like a hammer. Wood shattered. Merchants stumbled back in terror.
"Fanglord claims this market!" he bellowed. "All who resist—die!"
Liam stepped forward, blades at the ready. His heart pounded, but not from fear. This was the moment the system demanded.
[Bonus Objective Activated: Eliminate Bloodfang Captain]Reward: Rare Weapon Drop + Reputation Advancement.
Duel in the Inferno
The Captain swung. Liam barely rolled aside, the cleaver splitting the barricade in two. Splinters rained down.
He darted in, blade slashing across the Captain's side—but steel met steel. The brute wore scavenged armor beneath his tattoos. The strike only drew a shallow cut.
The Captain grinned, teeth bared. "Fast little rat. I'll enjoy splitting you in two."
He swung again. Liam ducked beneath it, rolled, and came up with a dagger slash across the Captain's thigh. The man roared, kicking him back with crushing force. Pain flared in Liam's ribs, but he forced himself to rise.
The crowd had fallen silent. Merchants and thugs alike watched, breathless, as the duel unfolded.
Liam's mind raced. He couldn't match the Captain's raw strength. But he didn't need to. He had the system—and a plan.
The Trap Springs
He retreated, feigning weakness. The Captain advanced, cleaver raised high. Step by step, Liam lured him closer—toward the collapsed spice stall where earlier he had scattered broken jars of lamp oil.
At the last second, Liam ducked aside. The Captain's cleaver slammed into the ground, spraying sparks as it struck stone.
The oil ignited.
Flames whooshed upward, engulfing the Captain in fire. He roared, staggering back, his tattoos burning, his flesh blistering.
Liam lunged, Blade Dance active, his strikes raining down in a blur. One, two, three, four—each faster, each deeper.
The fifth strike plunged his dagger into the Captain's throat.
The giant gurgled, staggered, then collapsed in a burning heap.
Victory in Blood
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then the merchants erupted. Cheers, sobs, cries of triumph. The Bloodfang warband faltered, fear flashing in their eyes. Their captain—dead. Their strength—broken.
They fled into the night, abandoning weapons, abandoning pride.
Ashenford still stood.
System Rewards
Liam's interface blazed with rewards:
[Bonus Objective Complete!]You have slain Bloodfang Captain – Level 15.EXP +450Rare Drop Acquired: Fanglord's Cleaver (Epic Tier Weapon)Reputation Advanced: Ashenford DefenderNew Title: The Merchant's Blade – Allies rally more fiercely under your command.
His breath came hard. His body ached. But his hands gripped new power.
The Distant Horn
The celebration was cut short.
From beyond the horizon, deep in the night, a horn blew. Long, low, mournful. The sound of war on a larger scale.
Liam's blood ran cold.
That was no mere warband signal. That was the Fanglord himself.
The true master of the Bloodfang Pack was coming.
And Ashenford's rebellion had only been the opening move.