Chapter 1096 - 890: Disruption_2

The short and stocky Warlock retrieved a bundle of Burst Rune Scrolls from inside his leather armor, rubbing the trigger line on the edge of each scroll for a while before gritting his teeth and stuffing them into a crevice beneath a piece of weathered rock.

The gaunt Warlock unhooked several smoke bombs from his waist that could interfere with spiritual power perception, planting them at intervals along the gravel periphery of the watchtower, his swift actions unable to conceal the beads of cold sweat seeping from his forehead.

The two exchanged a brief glance and then simultaneously detonated the runes and smoke bombs they had set.

The Burst Runes were activated almost instantly, with deep red flames bursting forth from the rocky crevice, sending fragments of rock and dust skyward, roiling into an ever-expanding cloud of gray-black smoke above the eastern side of the mining area.

Next, the smoke bombs exploded one after another, with thick grayish-white smoke rapidly spreading towards the watchtower, enveloping much of the periphery patrol area in an impenetrable haze.

As the explosion occurred, the horn atop the mining area’s watchtower ripped through the night sky, with a three-short-one-long emergency alert signal echoing repeatedly off the rock walls throughout the mining area.

The eastern patrol squad rushed towards the explosion site immediately, their booted steps creating a chaotic and hurried sound over the gravel. The squad captain charged ahead with a shield raised, followed closely by several veterans gripping mining picks and machetes.

Soon afterward, the heavy tolling of a bell resounded from the tallest lookout tower at the center of the mining area.

It was Byron himself who had sounded the alarm, and the pounding metallic clangor of the bell weighed like a war drum upon everyone present.

All patrol squads were mobilized, with torches moving swiftly between the mine entrance and the tunnel intersections. The reserve squad left guarding the miners’ dormitory was also urgently summoned to support the eastern explosion site.

The entire mining area was like an anthill being poked, with all guard forces swarming towards the east.

In the chaos, no one noticed that several figures had quietly slipped underground by taking advantage of the smoke screen, through an interior intersection of the mine tunnels deep within the pit.

Rodrick moved at the very instant the explosion sounded, not taking the main entrance but squeezing through a crack formed by a previous collapse along the edge of the subsiding area, swiftly descending towards the core of the ore vein via an abandoned drainage shaft.

The tunnel was pitch-black, lingering ore dust pervading the narrow space, with each breath carrying the acrid scent of metal and sulfur.

His movements were incredibly swift yet made almost no sound, his booted footsteps as light as a feline’s, while his scarred hands hovered consistently above the hilt of the Cutting Short Blade at his waist, poised for any sudden developments.

The infiltration was smoother than anticipated, as most of the guards in the pit’s depths had been lured to the eastern side by the explosions, leaving only a sparse few at the entrance to the core tunnel.

In the darkness, Rodrick silently approached, efficiently disabling the two guards stationed at the core tunnel entrance from behind, and then signaled to those behind him.

The two Wizards tasked with monitoring the Black Stone Clan Leader swiftly followed, crouching as they traversed the final section of the tunnel, entering the core region of the ore vein.

Before them lay an incredibly rich pocket of raw ore, with densely packed dark red crystals embedded deep within the gray-white rock layers, casting the entire pocket into what appeared like a pool of flowing blood.

The purity was exceedingly high, incomparable to the scattered ores he had seen on the outskirts of other mining areas.

Rodrick drew the Cutting Short Blade specially made by Bloodthorn Castle from his waist, placing the tip against the edge of the largest piece of ore and began the extraction.

His technique was clean and precise, each cut exact at the weakest point on the boundary between the ore and the native rock, peeling away the entire unprocessed ore along with a small amount of adhering rock, and instantly stowing it into the Space Ring.

His actions were extraordinarily quick yet very efficient, each piece of extracted ore retained a relatively intact form, conserving significant time and costs for subsequent refinement.

The two Wizards behind him also began their work before their respective ore pouches. Without the specialized blade like Rodrick’s, they could only use their weapons and tools to painstakingly chip the ore off the rock wall, their pace considerably slower, but the combined efforts of both still yielded a substantial amount.

The chaos on the outskirts of the mining area persisted. The Wizards responsible for creating the chaos had completed their initial distraction, retreating as planned towards a distant direction to the east of the mining area, detonating residual runes and smoke bombs along the way to keep the pursuers’ focus firmly behind them.

They dared not look back, focusing all their might into drilling further into the pit, their hearts drumming loudly within their chests.

Just as Rodrick was tucking another fist-sized Philosopher’s Stone into the Space Ring, a group of torches suddenly lit up all over the northwest watchtower of the mining area, swiftly moving towards the mine.

This was a patrol squad rushing from an outlying station to provide reinforcement after hearing the alarms. Judging by the timing, they arrived considerably sooner than a normal shift change, likely acting under a direct order from Byron following the bell toll to deploy the reserve squad.

Rodrick raised his head, his gaze sweeping across the approaching torchlights at the tunnel entrance, as he stowed the last precisely cut ore into the Space Ring, shouting a low command to the two Wizards still frantically chipping away at the rock.

"Retreat." The three quickly sealed the tunnel entrance with a simple soundproof barrier, retracing their path through the drainage shaft, blending into the patrol squads still scouring for the source of the explosion, utilizing the night and smoke as cover as they headed towards the abandoned tunnel.

Behind them, the rock walls of the core ore region were left with dozens of empty pits where the ore pockets once were, though not as expansive as the previous subsiding area.

On the ground of the mining area, Byron stood beneath the lookout tower on the gravel periphery, his hand resting on the Totem Pole, extending his perception across the entire mining area, his brows furrowing ever tighter.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss with this assault; the explosions were merely a facade, causing no substantive casualties.

The intruders’ mining methods were efficient, yet far less so than before, and entirely unlike previous tactics.

The mysterious ore thief who had kept him apprehensive all day long didn’t seem to be part of this attack.

The two Wizards who had created the chaos were intercepted at the third fork of the abandoned tunnel, with the short and stocky Warlock in the lead and the gaunt Warlock closely following, desperately drilling deeper west into the abandoned tunnel along their previously taken path.

They had completed their diversion task, constantly detonating residual smoke bombs along the way, keeping the pursuers focused behind them.

Unbeknownst to them, a shadowy figure in a dark gray cloak had begun trailing them quietly since they detonated the first smoke bomb.

The figure’s pace was not swift, with steps almost leisurely.

As he moved through the dense smoke, the grayish-white clouds parted on either side in his presence, not leaving the slightest trace on his cloak.

His footsteps on the gravel barely made a sound, as if he were a wisp of dark fog blending into the shadows.

The short and stocky Warlock was the first to sense something was wrong. His battle instincts had been honed to an acute level through numerous life-and-death struggles on the Scavvy Continent. Almost as the shadowy figure emerged from the smoke, he hurled the Burst Runes in his hand backward desperately.

The runes exploded in midair one after another, with deep red flames lighting up the entire section of the tunnel as if it were daylight, with shrapnel and shockwaves bouncing readily within the confined space.

His goal was not to injure the pursuer, but to buy time to continue fleeing by the bright light and shockwave of the explosion.

But the shadowy figure didn’t even bother to dodge, casually raising a hand before the explosion’s shockwaves could touch him, lightly closing his fingers around the void.

All the spreading flames, smoke, and shrapnel were forcibly compressed by an invisible force and silently obliterated, leaving not even a speck of ash behind.

The hand was slender and dry, its nails cut very short, with a dark silver clan emblem ring encrusted upon a knuckle, its surface bearing the same dull patterns as his cloak.