Chapter 109

Chapter 109: Chapter 109

Jowe struggled to stand, one hand pressed against the wall. His face had become twisted with humiliation and anger, and the sight only made Freya more furious. She remembered all the times she had argued with him, all the times she had tried to explain that something was wrong with Berthanon. Every single time, he had dismissed her concerns and defended his grandfather without even considering the possibility that she might be right.

She had once thought he was simply stubborn. Now she realised he was willing to ignore anything, even the truth, as long as it meant he could continue believing in the person he admired.

"Freya, don’t do this," one of the Hunters shouted from behind them. "You’ve already made your point. Stop before someone gets seriously injured!"

But Freya didn’t look back. Jowe had finally managed to straighten his body. He raised his fists, clearly unwilling to surrender, and Freya’s expression hardened. She rushed forward, caught his shoulder, and slammed him against the wall again. The impact shook the nearby shelves, sending several objects crashing onto the floor.

She pulled him away from the wall and threw him down. Jowe landed heavily on his back, coughing as the air left his lungs. Freya stepped over him, raising her fist for another strike. He tried to roll away, but she caught his collar and dragged him back.

"Listen carefully, Jowe. I’m giving you one last chance. Move out of my way, and I’ll leave you alone. But if you continue defending that man, don’t expect me to show you any mercy."

Jowe stared up at her, his chest heaving. "You’re the one who needs to stop! My grandfather has done nothing wrong!"

Freya’s fist tightened. "Then you can explain that to him after I drag him out here."

She raised her arm, gathering strength for a final blow. Jowe’s eyes widened as he saw the movement, and he immediately tried to shield his head. The force behind Freya’s strike was enough to cause serious damage, maybe even kill him if it landed properly.

But before her fist could come down, something snapped through the air. A long whip wrapped around Jowe’s upper body, catching him across the back and shoulders. The force of the pull dragged him away from Freya so suddenly that his body slid across the floor. Freya’s fist struck nothing but empty air, and she immediately turned towards the source of the attack.

At the same moment, a figure rushed towards her. She barely had time to raise her arm before a powerful strike slammed into her chest. The impact lifted her off her feet and sent her flying backwards. Her body crashed against the opposite wall, and the force knocked the breath out of her lungs.

A sharp pain exploded through her chest. Freya slid down the wall, coughing violently. Before she could properly catch her breath, she heard a loud cracking sound coming from the other side of the corridor.

Her mace. She turned her head just in time to see the enormous weapon being hit by the whip. The force of the blow sent it spinning through the air before it smashed against the floor. A second strike followed immediately, hitting the handle with such strength that the metal bent and the wooden shaft split apart.

The four bells detached from their hooks and scattered across the ground.

Freya stared. Another strike landed. This time, the mace broke completely.

For several seconds, she couldn’t move. She could only stare at the pieces of her weapon lying on the floor, her eyes widening as she watched the last remaining part roll away from the broken handle.

Then she coughed again. Blood spilled from her mouth, splashing onto the front of her clothes. She pressed a hand against her chest, but the movement only made the pain worse. Her ribs felt as if they had been crushed from the inside, and every breath sent another wave of pain through her body.

Slowly, she raised her head. Berthanon stood a short distance away, holding the whip in one hand. His expression was calm, almost indifferent, as if he had merely stepped in to settle a minor disagreement. Jowe had been pulled behind him, and another Hunter was helping him get back to his feet.

Freya’s eyes moved from Berthanon’s face to the broken pieces of her mace. That weapon had been given to her by Hunter G.

He had chosen it for her, made sure it was strong enough to withstand her fighting style, and even attached the four bells because he knew she liked the sound they made. She had carried it through countless battles, and whenever she heard those bells ringing, she would think of him. Those bells showed her level as a hunter, but she likes them because of Hunter G.

Now it was broken. Her lips trembled, but the tears in her eyes were no longer the same as before. She looked at Berthanon with so much hatred that even the Hunters standing nearby seemed uncomfortable.

"You..."

Her voice came out weakly. She tried to take a breath, but the pain in her chest forced another cough from her throat.

Berthanon didn’t answer. He simply turned his head towards the Hunters who had gathered in the corridor.

"That’s enough. Everyone, disperse. Return to your duties, and don’t waste any more time standing around."

Nobody moved immediately. The Hunters looked between him and Freya, clearly aware that something serious had happened. Some had witnessed the entire confrontation, while others had only arrived in time to see Berthanon break her weapon and send her crashing into the wall. Still, none of them dared to question his order.

Freya suddenly laughed. It was a weak, breathless sound, interrupted by another cough. She pushed one hand against the wall and slowly tried to stand, her legs trembling beneath her. Blood ran down her chin, and her chest rose and fell unevenly as she struggled to breathe.

"Why?" she asked, looking at Berthanon. "Why are you telling everyone to leave? Are you afraid they’ll finally see your true colours? Are you worried that they’ll hear what you’ve done and realise that the respectable senior official they’ve been worshipping is nothing but a murderer?"

Berthanon’s eyes settled on her. "Freya, you’ve caused enough trouble for one day. You’re injured, and I suggest you stop making things worse for yourself. Go back to the infirmary and get treated. I’ll overlook what happened here, but I won’t tolerate another disturbance."

She laughed again, although the movement made her wince. "Overlook it? You think I’m going to thank you for that? You killed Hunter G, and now you’re standing here pretending to be concerned about my injuries. Do you even hear yourself?"

"Your emotions are getting the better of you," Berthanon replied. "Hunter G’s death is unfortunate, but making baseless accusations will not bring him back. If you have evidence, present it. Otherwise, stop disgracing yourself in front of the other Hunters."

Freya stared at him. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to rush forward and tear his throat out. She could still feel the pain spreading through her chest, and the sight of her broken mace made her blood boil. But she forced herself to remain where she was, gripping the wall as she fought to keep her legs steady.

Berthanon’s attack had been powerful. She had fought countless opponents since becoming a Hunter, including powerful zombies and Beastmen, but she had never been struck with such force. He had not even seemed to exert himself. One moment, she had been about to finish Jowe, and the next, she was flying across the corridor with several broken ribs.

Just how strong was this man?

Her gaze briefly shifted towards the pieces of her mace again. Hunter G had given it to her, and Berthanon had destroyed it without even blinking. The thought made her throat tighten, but she swallowed the pain and looked back at him.

"Ingrid, will your plan really work? This man seems so terrifying."