Shattered Innocence: Transmigrated Into a Novel as an Extra-Chapter 560: Caius

The alley closed in around him like a vice, the scent of sweat, sunbaked stone, and impending violence thick in the air.

Caius let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders. 'Four of them. At least one knows how to use that axe. The others? Probably quick. Probably mean. This is going to be a pain in the ass.'

The gold-toothed thief smirked at him. "You going to stand there all day, mercenary? Or are we doing this?"

Caius ignored him. He flicked his gaze toward the alley's entrance. Halvor was still standing there, looking like a pig who had wandered into a wolf den.

'Stupid bastard. You should've run by now.'

The axe-wielder stepped forward first, rolling his thick wrists. "Hand over the merchant, and maybe we won't break all your bones."

Caius scoffed. "That's cute. You think I'm just some nameless sword?"

The thug tilted his head, amused.

Caius tightened his grip on his blade. "Are you Vyrell's men? Or Fennick's?" He let the words snap out like a whip, sharp and accusing. "You know who I work for, don't you?"

The tallest of them, the one cracking his knuckles, finally spoke. His voice was smooth, measured—someone used to command. "Oh, we know exactly who you work for." He stepped forward, watching Caius like a wolf eyeing a wounded rival. "Draven's dogs are everywhere these days. You thought wearing his leash would keep you safe?"

Caius's blood went cold.

'Shit.'

Draven wasn't just some gang leader. He was Varenthia's underworld. His mercenaries ran half the city's smuggling routes, and his enforcers kept the balance between those who had power and those who wanted it. Caius had worked for him for years—just another blade in Draven's endless supply.

And these bastards? They weren't common thugs.

Caius's eyes flicked over them, reassessing. Their stances were too confident, their mana signatures barely restrained. These weren't gutter scum. They were at least three-star warriors. Maybe even four-star.

His stomach clenched.

'This is bad.'

The gold-toothed thief chuckled. "Draven doesn't own this city, you know."

Caius met his grin with a hard glare. "Doesn't stop him from trying."

Then he moved.

Steel flashed, his blade sweeping toward the gold-toothed thief's ribs in a swift, practiced motion. The thief twisted at the last second, barely avoiding the cut, but Caius was already pivoting, using the momentum to drive his boot into the man's chest.

The thief staggered back with a sharp oof, but before Caius could press the advantage—

The axe came down.

Caius threw himself sideways as the heavy steel blade smashed into the ground where he had just been standing, splitting the stone with a sickening crack.

'Godsdamn. That would've broken every bone in my body.'

He rolled to his feet just in time to block a dagger strike, his sword catching the thin, glinting steel at an awkward angle. His arms shook from the impact, but he forced his opponent back with a rough shove.

The knuckle-cracker was already moving. His hands glowed with mana—reinforcement magic, strong reinforcement magic—and in the next instant, his fist was coming straight for Caius's face.

Caius barely got his sword up in time. The man's punch collided with the flat of the blade, and even with the block, the force sent Caius skidding backward, his boots scraping against the stone.

'Shit. Shit. These bastards are faster than I thought.'

He risked a glance at Halvor.

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The merchant had finally gotten some sense in his thick skull and had backed up toward the alley's exit, eyes wide with horror. "Mercenary! Do your job!"

Caius grit his teeth.

'Oh, I am doing my job, you idiot. And right now, my job is not dying.'

The axe-wielder swung again, and this time, Caius ducked under it, rolling to the side before slashing upward in a brutal arc. His blade bit deep into the man's thigh—

A normal thug would've gone down.

This bastard barely flinched.

Caius had a half-second to register the mistake before a boot caught him square in the ribs.

The air rushed from his lungs, and he slammed into the alley wall, pain flaring through his side.

He staggered to his feet just in time to see the dagger-wielder lunging—too fast, too precise.

'Four-star,' Caius realized, panic jolting through him. 'At least one of them is a four-star.'

His sword barely caught the strike, but the force of it sent him stumbling. He had fought three-star warriors before, but four-star? That was another realm. That was someone who could kill him if he slipped even once.

And he had already slipped.

A sharp laugh echoed through the alley. The knuckle-cracker grinned at him, flexing his mana-infused fingers. "What's wrong, Draven's dog? Thought you'd get out of this alive?"

Caius spat blood onto the ground.

'Maybe I won't. But if I'm going down, I'm taking one of you bastards with me.'

His grip tightened on his sword. His heart pounded in his ears.

The alley pulsed with danger, the heat of bodies, blood, and mana thickening the air. Caius steadied his breathing, tightening his grip on his sword. His ribs ached, his muscles burned, but his mind remained sharp. He wasn't dead yet.

Then—

A shadow flickered at the alley's mouth.

A figure emerged, slow, deliberate. A long cloak draped over his shoulders, the hood obscuring most of his face. But Caius saw the glint of steel—the thin, elegant line of a long blade strapped to his wrist.

The axe-wielder noticed too. He turned slightly, glaring. "Who the hell are you?"

The cloaked man didn't answer. Not immediately. Instead, he shifted, his head tilting ever so slightly as his gaze landed on Caius.

Caius tensed.

Then, the man spoke.

"Did you say Draven?" His voice was smooth, almost lazy. "Is his full name Kael Draven?"

Caius's mind blanked. 'What the hell is this?'

Everything about the situation was absurd—the gang trying to kill him, Halvor standing there like a useless sack of coin, and now this mysterious bastard casually asking about Draven like they were discussing a mutual acquaintance over drinks.

And yet—

"…Yeah," Caius found himself saying, his voice automatic. "Kael Draven."

For a moment, silence settled over the alley. The cloaked man remained still, his head dipping slightly in thought.

Then—

The axe-wielder growled. "Bastard! You think you can walk in here and—"

He surged forward, his massive frame a blur of muscle and rage, his axe swinging toward the stranger's head.

Bad move.

Before Caius could even shout a warning, the cloaked man moved.

His wrist flicked—swift, effortless. A long, thin blade flashed into existence, its edge gleaming with an unnatural, black flame.

The moment the axe came down—

CLANG!

The estoc met the strike at an angle, deflecting the heavy weapon with such precision that the axe-wielder stumbled, his balance completely thrown off.

The cloaked man chuckled.

"Now, now…" His voice carried the faintest hint of amusement. "Why are you interrupting two gentlemen talking? That's a bit rude, don't you think?"

He stepped forward, his estoc lowering to his side, the black flame licking at its edge like a living thing.

Caius stared.

'What the hell am I looking at?'

The gang members weren't laughing anymore. The dagger-wielder's grip tightened, his stance shifting slightly. The knuckle-cracker flexed his fingers, his mana flaring up, more cautious now.

Caius's mind worked fast.

This guy wasn't just some bystander. That blade—the way it moved—this was someone dangerous.

And yet, as the cloaked man turned his gaze back to him, there was nothing but lazy amusement in his expression.

"It appears," the robed guy muttered, exhaling sharply, "that my luck is on point today."

The cloaked man twirled his estoc lazily, the black flame clinging to the blade like a living thing, licking at the air but never consuming. His stance was relaxed—too relaxed for a man standing in the middle of an imminent bloodbath.

Then, his hooded gaze settled fully on Caius.

"Now," he murmured, almost conversationally, "I'll give you a chance."

Caius stiffened.

"You live," the cloaked man continued, tilting his head slightly, "if you take me to Kael Draven."

The words hung in the air, pressing against Caius's already strained nerves.

"And if I don't?" Caius asked, his voice coming out rough.

The man smiled.

"Well…" His shoulders lifted in a careless shrug. "Then I'll simply go on my own way." His gaze flicked to the thugs still surrounding them. "And these gentlemen appear to have some business left with you."