The Deadly Assassin Robin (Tristan Storm) novel Chapter 1067

Chapter 1067 Vengeance
Thibault abruptly stood up. "Where is Mr. Mihangel?"

"Mr.Thibault, Mr. Mihangel is dead! The 20 elite martial arts experts from the Clerys who accompanied him were also slaughtered by Drakebane!" The servant fell on the ground, sobbing.

Eloi grabbed the servant by the collar and demanded, "How do you know this?"

"Ms. Cynthia said so."

Gauthier's aged eyes flashed with a trace of shock. "That doesn't matter! How old was the man who entered the manor with Cynthia? What weapon was he using?"

The servant hesitated for a moment. "The man who came with Ms. Cynthia appeared to be around 21 or 22 years old. He was holding what seemed like a thick, dull, short blade."

"Huh?" Gauthier's expression changed drastically.

His instincts told him that the overwhelming presence outside the hall belonged to this man!

"What's wrong, Master Lysaght?" Thibault sensed Gauthier's astonishment. "I suspect Cynthia is exaggerating."

"Mihangel led 20 elite martial arts experts, all top of the family, and they carried firearms. Even if that man is as skilled as a master, escaping would be nearly impossible—let alone slaughtering them!"

Gauthier ignored Thibault's doubts and instead focused all his attention on the commotion outside the hall.

"Mr. Thibault, Ms. Cynthia, and a man have infiltrated the manor and already slaughtered 30 elite martial arts experts. They're still advancing!"

Another servant burst into the hall and fell on the floor, his right arm severed. After speaking, he immediately collapsed unconscious.

"Turn on the surveillance feed!" Gauthier pointed at Eloi and commanded.

On the monitor, a man wielding a short blade rampaged through the manor like a tiger among sheep. Everywhere he passed was littered with corpses!

The once picturesque Clery manor had turned into a gruesome slaughterhouse.

Rather than a battle between the family's guards and the intruders, it turned into a one-sided massacre.

At that moment, Eloi finally realized the gravity of the situation.

His son, Mihangel, had undoubtedly perished under this man's short blade.

"This man is a butcher! He's slaughtering indiscriminately!" Thibault roared in fury.

"Eloi, activate the manor's highest-level defenses immediately! Arm every guard with firearms and eliminate Drakebane!"

The original plan had been to capture Cynthia and Drakebane and dispose of them within the manor.

But not only had they failed to capture them, they had also lost Mihangel's life.

Worse, they had drawn disaster upon themselves, leading the enemy straight into their home.

Gauthier studied the surveillance footage long before shaking his head in disappointment. "The weapon in his hand lacks any spiritual essence. It is certainly not a legendary ancient relic."

"Master Lysaght, this man is strange!" Thibault squinted as he watched Robin carve his way forward like a war god. His brows furrowed deeply. "I can't decipher his martial style. Just how high is his level of mastery?"

Gauthier stroked the warrior blade at his waist and chuckled. "Not as mystical as the legends make it seem!"

Eloi gritted his teeth. "Hmph! Drakebane dares to challenge the Clerys and kill my son? Today, I will chop him into mincemeat!

"Everyone, with Master Lysaght here, Drakebane is nothing!"

Thibault, his son, and Gauthier quickly stepped outside the hall.

At that moment, Robin, accompanied by Cynthia and Rita, was still cutting his way through toward the central hall.

A statue of a Clerys ancestor, placed in the center of the manor, was shattered into pieces with a single kick from Robin.

The family guards, wielding blades, charged at Robin in waves, only to collapse in droves.

The ongoing slaughter left the manor's defenders horrified. Many of them, losing all hope, collapsed, wailing in despair.

Less than 10 minutes had passed since Drakebane's arrival, yet over 70 warriors had already perished under his short blade.

The firearms that had been brought out for distribution hadn't even been handed out before their wielders fell, one after another.

This was the most brutal massacre the Clery manor had witnessed since its construction.

Drakebane tore through the battlefield like a relentless storm, cutting down enemies with swift, decisive strikes.

With a sudden feint, he doubled back into the crowd, weaving in and out, his blade carving through layers of warriors like a specter of death. The once-solid formation of warriors crumbled into chaos—bodies flew, screams filled the air, and blood painted the ground.

At that moment, it was impossible to tell whether it was Drakebane or something beyond human, moving with inhuman speed and precision.

The number of attackers dwindled rapidly, their initial aggression giving way to sheer terror.

Some, realizing the futility of their assault, hesitated. Others, driven by blind loyalty, charged forward—only to drop dead before even raising their weapons, frozen in fear at the sight of him

This was no battle. This was a massacre.

The remaining guards had lost all will to fight.

Some, overwhelmed by despair, slit their own throat.

Faced with the blood-soaked Robin, the manor's warriors dared not advance any further.

They had seen ruthless men, vicious men, and even warriors with godlike martial skills.

But they had never seen a fighter as terrifying, brutal, and merciless as this!

This was a demon in human form!

The Clerys' warriors were terrified and hesitated, but Robin did not.

At this moment, he had completely surrendered to his bloodthirsty vengeance.

His entire being was consumed by the slaughter, growing ever more ferocious.

Because in his mind, a scene kept replaying.

His mother used her frail body to shield him from 18 knife strikes!

Now, he had only one belief. Revenge—the most ruthless revenge!