Dustin’s words made Mulder frown.

Mulder knew all too well that Warrick was the kind of man who had no sense of loyalty or honor. If Warrick could kill his own personal guards without hesitation, what would stop him from killing a stranger?

Mulder was certain that the moment things went south, Warrick would be the first to flee. Given the choice, he’d never willingly risk his life as Warrick’s sacrificial pawn. But now, there was no turning back.

With his undercover identity exposed and him helping Warrick escape, Mulder became a sworn enemy of West Lúcozia. His name was now on the most-wanted list.

Tonight was their best chance to escape. If they missed it, finding another way out would be nearly impossible.

There was only one path left for him-kill whoever stood in his way and make it onto that escape boat.

“Enough talk, punk. Let’s see what you’re really made of,” Mulder said.

After weighing his options, he gritted his teeth and finally decided to draw his longsword. His figure flickered like a phantom and left only a blur as he closed the distance instantly.

The sword in his hands gleamed coldly as it flashed past like a shooting star. A sharp wind followed its arc, carrying the force to cleave through the air as it aimed straight for Dustin’s throat.

Dustin’s expression remained calm and unfazed. Just as the sword was about to reach him, he shifted slightly. His movement was light and effortless as he narrowly avoided the fatal strike.

his right fist clenched and drove forward

and swung his sword across to block. A metallic clang-sharp and resonant-rang out

impact sent a jolt through Mulder’s arm and forced him back several steps. He spun and used

tip of his foot against the ground and glided back three feet, effortlessly slipping

boat. A sharp crack echoed through the air. Within moments, the vessel split in two and began sinking

after missing his target. His sword moved relentlessly,

carried enough power to break through stone, and the sword’s sharp whistle cut through the air. Sparks flew as the flashing steel carved deadly arcs, threatening

and effortless as he weaved through Mulder’s attacks like a wisp of silk in the wind, slipping

His steps seemed weightless, yet each one placed him just out of reach of the

his movements became wide and aggressive as he focused

who had promised to back Mulder up, looked solemn. His expression was unreadable as he watched the battle unfold,

looks strange,” Warrick murmured,

to be in his early 20s, yet he handled Mulder-a grandmaster

unsettled Warrick the most was his inability to

already gasping for breath. He hadn’t felt it before, but now that he was facing

stop? Keep going,”

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