The Deadly Assassin Robin by Tristan Storm

Chapter 1175 The Eight Gladiators

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The Ten Guardians and the Eight Gladiators of the Dark Night Alliance were not mere warriors. They were legends, echoes of an age when their blades had carved dominion from the chaos of warring titans.

They had not ruled the underworld–they had been the underworld, their names spoken in hushed reverence, their deeds etched into the marrow of history.

In those days, when the great powers vied for supremacy, their strength had been absolute.

The 30 strongest martial artists of the World of Darkness had fallen before them like dry leaves in an autumn wind, crushed beneath the weight of their mastery.

They had stood as equals with Draconia’s Twelve Great Warriors of Dragon Soul, Sakurania’s Northern Star Sword School, the sect of Dubh in Elaria, the dreaded Dark Lords of Caym in Marinaverdin, and Shepherd’s Panacea Ocean Warriors.

Each a giant in their own right. Each grasping for dominion. And for a time, none could be moved.

Then came the great shift.

It began 20 years ago, at the first Thalrex Order summit on Qacalisle Island.

The ink had barely dried on the accords when the world was upended.

The massacre at Dragon Manor had sent shockwaves through the underworld.

In the span of days, the mighty disappeared–vanishing into silence, as if they had never been.

Time pressed forward. The years turned like a slow wheel, grinding down all that had once seemed immutable.

The names that had once instilled terror faded to whispers in dark corners, little more than embers of a long–dead fire.

Then, from the bones of history, something stirred.

It was not vengeance that roused the old titans from slumber, nor lingering grudges best left buried. It was something greater, something older.

An artifact–a relic of the ancients.

No one could say what power it held, only that it was enough to send the most fearsome warriors of an era clawing back from oblivion, willing to sacrifice all to claim it.

Lonnie Schwartz, Guardian of the Dark Night Alliance, let out a low, knowing chuckle. His voice carried the ease of a man who had never known fear. “Divine Drakebane,” he said, lips curling, “the men before you today are the same warriors who once bent an entire age to their will.”

“Twenty years ago, we were untouchable.”

“For two decades, we trained in exile, in the frozen depths of Snow Valley, sharpening our power beyond reckoning.”

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Chapter 1175 The Eight Gladiators

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now?” Lonnie’s voice was

you, Divine Drakebane. No thirst for your

the relic. Surrender it, and you–and those you love–will leave this

darkened, something cruel glinting behind his eyes. “You have a wedding

for a trinket that was

whisper. You must know by now–this

Lonnie’s smirk deepened.

cold as he slowly drew the Dragon Dagger. The gleam in his eyes sharpened, hard and unforgiving, like

everything at it and still couldn’t get it. What makes you

death … thinking you

relic, it’s not

the peak of your power, you wouldn’t survive long enough to even lay a hand

with contempt. “Now that you’re all here, I won’t waste time hunting you down one by one. Today, I’ll rid the

“You

words, the Eight Gladiators surged forward, their killing

black parasites flooded the sky, a suffocating mass of

Robin’s pulse quickened.

smallest mistake, these billions of parasites would tear through

the battlefield. “One last chance, and then-

swarm of insects,” Robin muttered, his voice sharp. “What gives you the nerve to speak so boldly in front of

heartbeat, and then the

like a knife

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1175 The Eight

scream split the western sky, a cry of anguish

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clutched at his throat, blood ouring between

agony

of parasites fell, lifeless, to the

note,

lifted from the earth, his life’s blood trained by the Golden Dragon that circled above him, its wings sweeping the air like an

suffocation filled the air, but the scene quickly turned grim as the ground beneath them began

parasites rose from the earth, dark purple and deadly, forming into a massive blade that shot toward

countless gas–like parasites–shifted and flowed around Robin, closing in from every angle, wrapping him in a

called from afar,

Even missing a piece, it will be more than enough to end

created by the Eight Gladiators over the

nothing but empty words now?” Robin sneered, his voice laced with contempt

of cold light cut through the air, swift and decisive, slicing through the heart of the

smoke now laid

from it, the northwest