"Quick! Secure the perimeter! Hurry!"

A Mana Vortex Magus from the Cult barked out orders to his squad consisting of six Mana Liquefaction Magi. They were tasked with expanding into the Harbor Quarter.

They were currently positioned on one of the main streets in the Downtown Quarter that led to the dockside. They, along with over a dozen other squads, were tasked with engaging the city's forces and establishing a corridor for the cultists to advance through.

These Mana Vortex Magi, dealing with the city's forces, were some of the best of the best the Cult had to offer. They were the advance party, and as such, held solid battle prowess.

Dozens of advance parties, each led by a powerful Mana Vortex Magus, were steadily moving from the direction of the Downtown Quarter and Market Quarter, advancing towards the Harbor Quarter with ruthless determination.

Once the Harbor Quarter was within their grasp, the scales of war would dramatically shift in favor of the Cult. And then, it would only be a matter of time before they secured the victory.

After all, the rest of the districts, with the exclusion of the Corvid Quarter, were already embroiled in brutal warfare, and the Cult had the upper hand.

Securing the Harbor Quarter meant securing victory.

"Hurry! Hurry!"

The Mana Vortex Magus steadily moved forward, weaving earthen walls for his comrades, protecting them from spells and arrows. Their only disadvantage was the lack of familiarity with the terrain.

This was Ravenfell, after all. Its residents knew the ins and outs of this city like the back of their hands. So, it was easier for them to use the terrain's layout to their advantage and fight back.

But how much more can you fight?

The Mana Vortex Magus grinned maliciously, casting a flaming spear towards his enemies, skewering a couple of Mana Liquefaction Magi hiding within a building and killing them.

We have more Mana Core Magi on our side, he thought.

Once they're done with their battles, they'll soon arrive to lend us a helping—

Suddenly, the man's pupils constricted, and he heard the intense sound of warning bells ringing inside his mind. He abruptly turned around and defended the incoming attack with his sword—he didn't have enough time to cast a defensive spell.

Just as he raised his sword in a horizontal position, he saw the figure of a tall, dark-robed man with broad shoulders suddenly materializing from nothingness.

And by the time he noticed the black, pointy hat on the newcomer's head, it was already too late…

Adam viciously struck the cultist with the Staff of Calamity, swinging it in a downward motion. A thunderous boom echoed in the surroundings, causing the man's squad members to turn towards them in horror. They'd be too late to react, though.

The Staff of Doom effortlessly shattered the sword artifact the cultist was wielding. However, the latter was still an expert of the Cult and had plenty of battle experience. As soon as his sword shattered, he gritted his teeth and used his arms to defend himself.

Blood spurted out of his mouth as he felt the bones in his arms shatter into countless pieces. He could even see some sharp bone fragments jutting out of his skin. Beneath it all, he felt immense pressure.

Heavy. The staff was too damn heavy!

A small crater appeared underneath the man's feet, and before he knew it, he was forced to kneel from the impact of the attack. Worse still, the weight of the staff seemed to be increasing even more.

Just when he thought that he would be crushed under the weight of the staff, it… disappeared.

Suddenly disoriented by the drastic change, the cultist swayed, feeling pain radiate through every fiber of his being. His hands were now done for. He doubted if he could cast another spell anytime soon. But that was the least of his worries.

Because in the next moment, Adam conjured two sharp daggers shaped in the likeness of a raven's feather.

Nighthollow flashed with a cold light, and in the next instant, the daggers were buried deep inside the man's neck. There was a faint crack, and that was it… that was the last sensation the man felt before slipping into cold oblivion.

All it took was a little more than one second for Adam to take care of the Mana Vortex-level cultist. It was an incredible feat, but to him… it wasn't enough.

The raven-haired youth flicked his daggers, cleaning the blood from their dark blades with a swift, practiced motion. Then, he put it away and cast an indifferent side glance at the remaining cultists.

These men were utterly terrified to be in his presence, to say the least. For someone to kill their squad leader in the blink of an eye… just what kind of terrifying devil was this?

Adam didn't even have to raise a finger to slay them. In fact, he didn't have to do anything. Just as he had slain the Mana Vortex Magus, the forces of Ravenfell had capitalized on the opportunity and struck a decisive blow to the rest of the squad.

Various elemental spells vaulted across the city's cobblestone streets, drowning the cultists with unmatched fury and precision.

As the cultists fell to their deaths, Adam's figure had already vanished, nowhere to be seen.

But the forces of Ravenfell knew…

"The Dark King is with us!"

"Fight! Fight! Fight!"

"For the Dark King!"

"For Ravenfell!"

They roared to the skies. Even in the face of defeat, as long as the Dark King stood with them, here was hope.

To his enemies, Adam was the harbinger of death.

To his allies, he was a burning symbol of hope.

For the last hour or two, he had been silently prowling through the Downtown and Market Quarter, killing as many Mana Vortex Magi as he possibly could.

By now, he had forgotten how many of them he had even killed…

Definitely a few dozen, he thought.

With every Mana Vortex-level cultist that died by his hand, the chances of the city's forces coming out on top and defending the Harbor Quarter increased significantly.

Adam's heart was awashed by bloodlust, but his mind remained viciously cold.

He arrived at the rooftop of a three-story building, coldly gazing at the chaos ensuing below. Another squad of cultists was in the midst of brutal combat with the city's Magi.

Staff. Daggers. Rinse. Repeat, he thought to himself as he brandished the Staff of Calamity.

But just as he was about to jump down to the streets below, he faintly sensed someone's gaze lock onto him. The feeling was extremely fleeting, but he managed to get a hold of it somehow.

He frowned, suddenly feeling his heart turn cold for some reason. His grip around the staff tightened involuntarily, and he slowly raised his head.

There, on the edge of the rooftop across from him, stood a black-robed figure, one who, strangely enough, gave off no presence at all.

But the moment Adam's gaze locked onto this figure, he shuddered.

A feeling of dread gripped his heart, and in that instant, he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

Adam involuntarily gulped, his gaze never once leaving the man's face.

Or rather…

The familiar wooden mask.

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