The Deadly Assassin Robin novel Chapter 1409

The dust on Soulforge Mountain finally settled. The howling winds fell silent.

Each step Robin took was like a blade cleaving through the tyranny of corrupt overlords.

There was no wind. No dust.

No light.

No drifting clouds in the sky.

No more groveling or helpless resignation from the world below.

All that remained was a lone man, grim and unyielding, striding across a shaken world.

This land, suffocating under its own fear, was now filled only with the overwhelming presence of Robin's fury—a killing intent vast enough to crush all of Netheris.

Nox inhaled sharply, struggling to calm a fear he'd never felt before. "Mr. Drakebane, please ... control yourself. The dispersal of your wife's soul was a misunderstanding. We never intended to harm her. It was that lunatic Hacyon—"

"Kneel!" Robin's voice cracked like thunder.

Nox, a Sanctified Realm master, pushed back against the pressure, but it was no use. The force bearing down on him was like a mountain.

With a heavy thud, he dropped to his knees. "Please reconsider, Mr. Drakebane. The Crownward Syndicate is the spiritual pillar of Netheris. If you act on impulse, you'll spark a rebellion from the entire population—"

Before he could finish, the crowd below erupted into a deafening roar. "Kill Drakebane! Protect the Dark Syndicate! Protect the High Pontiff! Protect Netheris!"

Relief flickered in Kage's eyes. The same was true for the other elites.

This was their specialty.

The Dark Syndicate knew exactly how to manipulate the masses.

They had studied the psyche of Netheris's commoners to the bone.

These were people scraping by on the edges of survival. Scattered like sand. Easily swayed.

They were kind and naive, yes—but also selfish and, at times, cruel.

Deep down, they longed for someone to rule over them.

Even if you gave them crowns, they'd still kneel by instinct.

Without a god to command them, they'd spiral into chaos.

To their own kind—and to those who had helped them—they showed pettiness, resentment, even hatred.

But toward those who enslaved and abused them, they offered loyalty, worship, and blind devotion.

The Dark Syndicate had a name for them: the wretched.

All it took was a rallying cry from the High Pontiff, and the wretched would swarm forth—mindless of right or wrong, eager to commit atrocities in the name of loyalty.

This was the banality of evil.

And the Syndicate wielded it like a scalpel, slicing through morality with terrifying ease.

Nox pointed to the angry mob below and said, "Mr. Drakebane, look at them. If you keep acting irrationally, you'll incite a civil war. Why don't we put this behind us and talk—"

"Sure." Robin chuckled coldly. Then he seized Nox by the throat and lifted him high into the air. "You think you're in a position to bargain with me?"

Crack! With a twist of his wrist, Robin snapped Nox's neck and hurled the body down the mountain like garbage.

At the same time, he tossed the Vowbinder into the sky.

In an instant, the Heavenfall Blades shimmered into existence and descended in a cold, merciless arc, slicing down the zealots who had just screamed for Robin's death.

Watching the brutal carnage, Varryn fell silent.

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