Gunmage-Chapter 243: No safe houses

"I’m gonna miss this place."

"What? Are you serious?"

"Yes. And I’m not ashamed to say it."

The beastkin declared, folding his arms as he glanced out the window. His partner simply watched him for a while, expression unreadable, then shook his head and replied.

"After spending so much time with humans, it seems you’ve also developed the habit of spouting nonsense."

The first beastkin turned to him with an affronted look before replying,

"You gotta admit though, they know how to have fun."

"Yes—"

The other beastkin said, to his partner’s surprise. That was, until the rest followed:

"—indulging in pleasure is all they’re good for."

"But still,"

The first continued, zipping open a canvas bag as they both packed up gear for the road—swords, darts, throwing knives, and a wide assortment of other deadly tools.

His tone was light, but his hands were practiced and precise.

"It still feels pretty damn great. Their plumbing is so much more advanced."

"If you like them that much, why don’t you quit the Canines and go live among the humans forever?"

"Nah."

He shook his head, smirking.

"They make some nice stuff, but their women are too fragile."

"...I know, right."

They both let out low, knowing chuckles.

Their hands didn’t stop moving. Every item was checked, every strap tightened. Amidst the routine, the one with the deeper baritone voice muttered again,

"Maybe we could bring some of the good stuff to Zhuul. Like indoor plumbing. Or that new extricity—"

"Electricity,"

His partner corrected with a dry voice.

"Right. Electricity. I could set up a business. I’d be filthy rich."

"Do you even know how any of it works though?"

"...No, I do not,"

He admitted without shame.

"But hey, we could always kidnap an engineer or something."

He flopped onto a nearby chair with a loud thud, the wood creaking under his bulk.

Reaching into a pouch, he pulled out a strip of dried meat and ripped into it with sharp teeth. He chewed, swallowed, and grimaced.

"Tastes like ass."

"Get used to it,"

His partner muttered without looking up.

"We’re going to be on the road all week."

"Ugh. I’m bored."

The big man leaned back, tilting his head up toward the ceiling.

"Laying low isn’t really my thing, you know?"

"Well it is m—"

His partner’s sentence cut off abruptly. A stillness followed, heavy and immediate.

The larger beastkin straightened in an instant, eyes narrowing. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

"What is it?"

"I don’t know. I sense something... but I can’t tell what it is."

His partner’s tone was tight, every syllable deliberate.

They both sniffed the air in unison.

"I don’t smell any—"

CRASH!

A projectile slammed through the window. The impact shattered the glass—and the silence.

"Get dow—!"

He never finished.

A thick, black smoke erupted from the object, flooding the room in a matter of seconds. It clung to their throats, burned their lungs, and made their eyes sting.

Cough, cough

"It’s an ambush!"

The raspy voice, choked by the fumes, barely cut through the chaos. But it was enough.

Both men burst into motion. Without a word of coordination, they dove in opposite directions—each choosing a different window.

They leapt through the frames and into the open, swift and silent as shadows. Smoke trailed in their wake.

One dashed north. The other south.

But they hadn’t gone far when the first round of gunfire tore through the morning air. The sound cracked like thunder, sending terrified civilians screaming in all directions.

The area had not been evacuated—deliberately so. The operation relied on the illusion of safety to keep the targets in place.

Now, those innocent bystanders were running for their lives.

The larger beastkin wasn’t so lucky.

A bullet found his throat, crushing windpipe, muscle, and bone in one explosive burst. Blood sprayed. His body twitched.

The next bullet drove through his skull, killing him before he hit the ground.

His partner, though alive, was riddled with wounds—legs, arms, torso—all hit in seconds.

He collapsed, unable to move.

A masked figure strode toward him, revolver in hand.

"Who are you people? What do you want?!"

There was no answer.

The masked man raised the gun.

A flash. A bang.

Execution.

"We have three minutes. Clean up the bodies."

The steady voice of command barked from behind the mask, and the operatives moved in without hesitation.

Not far away, tucked inside a restaurant, a woman trembled behind the safety of a wooden counter.

Citizens huddled all around her, panicked and confused. She had seen everything.

Tears streamed silently down her cheeks as she cupped a hand over her mouth.

She was Ren—the only surviving female member of the Canines.

Mike had warned her before leaving.

"Don’t go to the safe houses. Just stay in the open. Roam the streets. If we get hit, forget the supplies and run. Get away from this city as fast as you can."

She hadn’t believed it. Neither had he.

But it had happened. The worst had happened.

If this safe house had been compromised, then the others—the docks, the warehouse—were probably hit as well.

As for Mike, He was inside the Jade Palace itself.

Her chest burned with the sting of tears, grief, and something more. Something hotter.

Rage.

She wiped her face. No hesitation. No more doubt.

Blending into the curious crowd forming outside, she slipped away into the streets. Her destination was Zhuul. Her purpose was now vengeance.

In the Jade Palace, before the king himself, Mike stood tall.

He had already run through every possible outcome in his mind.

There was no longer any hope for escape.

But there was one light left. One purpose.

If he could trade his life for the king’s—then the power vacuum would rip Ophris apart from within.

A nation at war couldn’t afford internal collapse. A dead monarch would shatter the throne’s balance.

He had memorized every scent, every heartbeat, every footstep of the guards in the room.

They were all human.

That meant he had a chance.

Mike surged forward—his body blurring, claws gleaming, aimed straight for the king’s throat. A single blow. That was all he needed.

Then, all at once—

A crushing pressure slammed down on him like a mountain.

Updat𝒆d fr𝒐m freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.c(o)m