A heavy pewter mug whistled through smoke-filled air like a catapult projectile, smashing toward "Silvereye" Salik.
Salik's single eye flashed coldly in shadow. Without retreating half a step, his fist wreathed in pale golden Combat Aura struck lightning-fast. Wood chips scattered as liquid exploded into amber clouds, yet inches from his leather breastplate, the Combat Aura barrier vaporized it into acrid mist. Flying fragments stabbed like poisoned daggers into surrounding Wildfox mercenaries' exposed skin.
The two nearest mercenaries screamed while covering their faces, blood seeping through finger gaps. Salik's muscle-corded neck turned as his single eye swept the crowd hawk-like, seeking the provocateur. But Wildfox members were already roaring their charge.
Solich led the assault, enchanted longsword carving a frigid arc straight for Salik's face. "Seeking death!" Salik's hoarse voice drowned in clamor. He sidestepped the blade, iron-wrapped bracer precisely catching the opponent's wrist before wrenching violently. Bone displacement cracked beneath the din as his other Combat Aura-condensed fist hammered into Solich's abdomen.
A third-tier warrior's protective Combat Aura proved tissue-thin before absolute power disparity. Solich's entire face twisted in agony, body bending at unnatural angles as he flew backward. The dropped longsword grazed a bystander's scalp before humming deep into an oak beam, blade embedding half a foot deep.
Before Salik could recover, two Wildfox mercenaries pounced from both sides. His military boot crushed one man's knee hollow with audible bone cracks, yet the other's kick solidly connected with his ribs. Salik staggered, overturning a table as ale and pottery shards scattered everywhere.
Solich spat bloody foam while rising. This time he abandoned knightly dignity, pouncing bare-handed like a rabid cave wolf—tavern brawling forbade edged weapons anyway, drawing his sword had already broken protocol. As if receiving silent command, both sides' mercenaries erupted simultaneously.
Splintering furniture thundered alongside fists thudding on leather in brutal symphony. Though Salik held rank advantage, four Bloodthorn mercenaries faced seven Wildfox members' assault. When unwritten rules against killing bound their fangs, numerical superiority emerged. Salik's cheekbone took another heavy punch, iron taste flooding his mouth.
Watching mercenaries erupted in fevered cheers, ale flowing like water down throats. In these frontier territories, full mercenary company brawls provided rare entertainment.
Nightingale still propped her chin on the bar, murky mead swirling in clay cups. Present chaos reminded her of two young captains who'd dueled for her twenty years ago—their eyes had blazed just as frighteningly bright as these boys'.
Within the seething crowd, two slight figures in broad cloaks perfectly merged with the revelry. Their cheers matched others' fervor, yet eyes beneath hood shadows remained cold as arctic wolves.
"Quite the scheme—devious enough." Tony knee-nudged Arthur's hip, voice extremely low.
"Heat's insufficient." Arthur's lips barely moved. "Need sparks becoming wildfire."
Tony released an owl-like cackle while retreating. At the crowd's rear, a bearded mercenary was jumping to see combat clearly, curses swallowed by greater clamor. Suddenly his belt tightened as he was hurled skyward like a potato sack.
"Which bastard—" He twisted mid-air seeking the prankster, words unfinished as he crashed heavily into Salik's back.
Salik, resisting dual flanking, tumbled forward. Solich and his companion immediately seized opportunity, fists raining on the Bloodthorn deputy leader. Salik finally exploded in fury, pale golden Combat Aura blasting like shockwaves to sweep surrounding three men like fallen leaves.
Turning to see the rising bearded man, Salik delivered an unthinking spinning kick. The mercenary smashed puppet-like into crowds, toppling two drinking spectators.
"Bloodthorn mad dog!" The bearded man spat bloody molars while rising, howling as he charged again. The two implicated mercenaries cursed while joining the fray.
Salik's single eye flashed annoyance, yet combat instinct drove greater savagery. Combat Aura blazed brighter as each punch felled mercenaries.
The tavern descended into utter chaos. More people faced sabotage pushing them into battle circles, enraged mercenaries simply attacking anyone nearby. Among Bloodthorn mercenaries, only Salik still struggled—the other three had long collapsed.
"Lively enough now?" Tony wriggled back to Arthur's side like a mudfish, cloak stained with spilled ale.
"Our turn to enter."
"Perfect—time to teach that one-eyed wolf an unforgettable lesson!" Tony glared at white-light-wreathed Salik while grinding teeth.
Yet Arthur suddenly grabbed his arm: "Reverse it—help Bloodthorn."
Tony's hood trembled with surprise.
"Do it, hide your identity then split up and withdraw." Arthur squeezed his companion's arm forcefully before turning to silently approach the still-vibrating enchanted longsword.
Nightingale suddenly straightened, wrinkled hands pressing the bar. This weapon-sparked brawl was spiraling beyond control, air carrying ominous viscosity—like swamps congealing before storms.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Three wall oil lamps simultaneously shattered, glass fragments raining like black droplets. Darkness instantly devoured half the tavern.
"Everyone stop!" The proprietress's thunderous roar shook beams humming.
Almost simultaneously, some blade tearing leather's muffled sound penetrated clamor. The following scream froze everyone's blood.
Solich knelt collapsed, hands desperately covering his abdomen. A bone-hilted dagger's serpentine crossguard jutted grotesquely between his fingers as dark red liquid dripped from interlocking fang decorations.
"Wasn't me!" Some rising Bloodthorn mercenary waved frantically while his waist's empty scabbard swayed violently.
Nightingale's breathing stopped. This was no longer ordinary tavern brawling—someone had just lit funeral torches.