CHAPTER 312: CHAPTER 312 - THE LAST CONTRACT (EDRIK’S SIDE STORY 2/2)

Edrik’s fingers closed tightly. Not around the girl’s throat, but around something hanging there. A pendant.

Atlas leaned in closer, realizing what he was seeing. A small silver necklace with a round pendant rested against the girl’s collarbone. Edrik stared at it, his sharp gaze flickering for the first time, as if the object itself carried a memory he could not ignore.

The girl trembled, her frightened eyes locked on his.

Is she... his target tonight?If he kills her, the job is done—but...

Edrik didn’t move to strike. He just stood there, gripping the pendant tightly, his knuckles white. His left hand trembled slightly, the faintest sign of struggle breaking through his otherwise perfect composure.

It was as if he was holding something back.

Then, from outside, a shout tore through the stillness.

"An intruder! Surround the area. There’s an intruder inside!"

The sound of rushing footsteps filled the corridor, heavy and fast.

Edrik’s eyes sharpened instantly. He released the pendant, straightened, and turned toward the door, his body shifting into battle readiness. The short sword gleamed faintly in his left hand as his focus returned.

For a moment, he stood still. Then, in one swift motion, he spun back toward the girl, grabbed her by the arm, and hoisted her effortlessly over his right shoulder.

She let out a short, startled cry. But before she could even breathe again, Edrik was already moving.

The door burst open as armed men flooded into the room. But, it was too late.

A crash shattered the night.

Edrik had already leapt through the glass window, shards scattering in the air as he landed outside with the girl in tow.

"Chase him! Don’t let the intruder escape!" someone shouted, and the mansion erupted with chaos. Dozens of footsteps echoing through the halls as Edrik vanished into the dark.

**

Edrik’s escape was almost unreal. He darted through alleys, vaulted low walls, and vanished between narrow streets, his figure blending into the dim light of dawn. By the time his pursuers reached the outer roads, he was already gone.

Soon after, he found his motorcycle again. With the girl still slung over his shoulder, he started the engine and sped through the silent streets. The city lights blurred behind them as he pushed the throttle harder, leaving the urban sprawl for the open countryside.

Atlas followed closely, drifting above as morning began to break. The pale sunlight washed over the world, revealing a small, quiet town beyond the city’s edge.

Edrik finally stopped before a modest apartment building, six stories high, tucked between rows of old shops. He carried the girl inside, up a narrow stairway, and into a small room. It was simple but clean, just like the one he’d lived in before.

He left the girl near the door, then sat in a wooden chair by the corner. With slow movements, he slipped off his jacket, revealing a shallow cut across his left arm. The blood had dried, but he checked it carefully, cleaning it with precision.

So he didn’t kill her. He saved her.

But why? This would bring him trouble. A man like Edrik didn’t make careless decisions. Yet here he was, hiding the very target he was supposed to eliminate.

The room stayed silent for a long time. The girl stood motionless near the door, uncertain, her wide eyes still filled with fear. But she didn’t run. Instead, she quietly followed Edrik’s movements with her gaze, as if trying to understand him.

Hours passed. When Edrik finally sat down to eat something, a simple plate of bread and soup. He wordlessly broke a piece of bread in half and handed it to her.

She hesitated, staring at it.

"You’ll get into trouble," she said, her voice trembling. She didn’t touch the food.

Edrik looked up briefly, his cold eyes meeting hers. He said nothing.

"It would’ve been better if you killed me," the girl continued.

Still, no response.

Edrik simply went back to his meal, using his fork and knife with the same meticulous grace he showed in everything he did as if nothing else in the world existed.

Atlas floated nearby, watching the strange, quiet scene unfold. Just who is she, Edrik... and why save her?

**

Time moved painfully slow inside that small apartment. The hours crawled by until the faint glow of evening began to stretch across the windows.

But then, something shifted.

A low, growing rumble echoed from outside. The sound of multiple engines.

Atlas floated closer to the window, peering through the glass, and froze.

Down below, several black cars had pulled up in front of the building, one after another. The vehicles stopped sharply, doors swung open, and armed men began to pour out. They carried pistols, rifles, and long blades gleaming under the dim streetlights.

They found him.

Edrik turned his head slightly toward the window. His expression didn’t change. But there was a sharpness in his eyes now, a silent calculation as he processed the situation.

Without a word, he moved. He grabbed the girl by the wrist and pulled her toward the wall. She didn’t resist; perhaps she already understood the danger.

Edrik pressed against one side of the room, feeling along the paneling until he found a hidden latch. A soft click sounded, and part of the wall shifted open, revealing a narrow space barely big enough for one person.

He guided the girl inside. Her eyes searched his face, confused but silent.

He didn’t speak, then closed the panel, sealing her away.

He’s hiding her...

Edrik turned back toward the door.

From outside came the muffled sound of footsteps.

Edrik drew his gun, sliding the magazine with a smooth motion before checking the chamber. Then he reached for his short sword, the metal whispering softly as he pulled it free.

His face remained expressionless, yet something cold and deadly emanated from him. A readiness to fight, and to kill!

Atlas looked down toward the street where the armed group was gathering. Are they here for her? he wondered. Or for him?

Still, Atlas couldn’t help but think. Edrik could have run. He could have left the girl, escaped without burdening himself with this mess.

But he didn’t.

He stayed. And that choice... meant everything.

Edrik moved the moment his door swung open.

The first men who stepped into the corridor never even saw him properly. Only the flare of the muzzle flashes. Gunfire erupted in short, brutal bursts, each shot precise. Bodies slammed into the walls, collapsing without a sound beyond the echo of falling shells.

Atlas flinched, but Edrik didn’t stop. He crouched, stripped a rifle from one of the fallen, checked its magazine, and kept moving.

What followed could only be described as a slaughter.

He advanced floor by floor, every motion an execution of ruthless efficiency. His shots always found their mark. Foreheads, temples, throats. When enemies closed in too fast for a clean shot, he switched seamlessly to his blade, cutting them down with swift, surgical strikes.

Atlas drifted behind him, stunned. The air was thick with smoke and the sharp smell of gunpowder. Screams echoed through the stairwells; the walls were scarred by bullet holes, and the chaos spread through the building.

People in the apartments screamed and ducked for cover. The sound of shattering glass and distant alarms filled the air. Yet through it all, Edrik never faltered. He fought like someone who had long made peace with death. Someone who belonged to it.

By the time he reached the ground floor, the building had fallen silent except for the faint crackle of broken lights.

And then, heavy footsteps approached the entrance.

Edrik stopped in the middle of the lobby, reloading his weapon with calm precision. A tall man entered through the front doors, his presence immediately commanding. His black suit was immaculate, his expression coldly composed. A sword hung at his waist. Behind him, several men followed in perfect formation.

The man’s lips curved into a faint, almost amused smile.

"So this is what’s become of our number strongest assassin?" he said. "Deciding to hide the target instead of finishing the job?"

So Edrik truly was one of them.

Edrik shifted his stance, sword leveled, a thin smirk cutting across his face.

"You are my target now," he said.

The tall man laughed. "You made the wrong choice, Edrik. Tonight you end here." He drew his sword, and the soldiers behind him moved like a shadow folding itself around him.

They came at once. The lobby erupted into motion. Bullets snapped, metal rang, and bodies moved as if pulled by strings.

Edrik ducked a slash, rolled through the spray of sparks, and answered with a single, precise cut that opened a man’s neck and dropped him without a sound. He fired twice from a taken rifle, each shot hitting where it had to.

When an enemy closed in too close, he folded into a blade strike so quick it looked like a ghost passing through flesh.

The taller man fought differently. He used reach and weight, pressing Edrik back, forcing him to concede ground. Edrik did not panic. He parried, slipped, and found seams in the man’s guard. The fight narrowed to a series of small, brutal exchanges where there was no room for mistakes.

At one moment the big man’s sword sang as it skimmed Edrik’s shoulder, drawing blood. Edrik tasted iron, narrowed his eyes, and countered with a move so clean it felt mechanical. The big man staggered, then fell, his sword clanging across the floor.

What followed was a brutal fight. Edrik dodged every attack and every shot with precision, blocking and striking back at the perfect moments. In the blink of an eye, he managed to take down everyone there, leaving only one man standing, the tallest among them.

Now the two faced each other, both gripping their swords tightly, ready to end it all in a final duel. It seemed their guns had already run out of bullets.

"I’ll admit, you’re strong, Edrik. But there’s one thing wrong about you," the tall man said.

At that moment, several shouts came from behind. Edrik turned for just a second and saw the girl from earlier. She was being held by two men, struggling desperately to break free.

His expression changed in an instant, and before he could react, a gunshot echoed through the air. Edrik jerked forward as a bullet struck his back.

He froze, completely still, even though it was clear the shot had hit him clean. The tall man moved swiftly, slamming his fist into Edrik’s head. Edrik tried to block the blow, but his strength was fading. He fell hard to the floor, blood flowing heavily from his wound.

"No, please! Kill me instead. Let him go!" the girl screamed from afar.

The tall man crouched beside Edrik’s limp body, grabbing a fistful of his hair and lifting his face.

"We respect you," he said coldly. "But I’m afraid you’re something that needs to be taken care of. You’re far too dangerous to be left alive."

Atlas floated frozen, unable to move after witnessing everything that had just happened. The fight had been overwhelming. Edrik had taken down an astonishing number of enemies on his own.

Yet it was clear that even though he was awakened, his level was still low. He fought with precision and skill, but he hadn’t shown any of the dazzling magic abilities that could have saved him from such a situation.

Now his body lay motionless on the floor while the tall man ordered the others to take the girl away. Edrik no longer resisted; his strength had completely faded.

Then, at that very moment, something familiar to Atlas appeared, a sight he had come to recognize from similar experiences. A glowing magic circle formed beneath Edrik’s weak body, its light spreading in intricate patterns before swallowing him whole and making him vanish from sight.

Edrik had been saved by the system itself, ascending in that instant to become a lord.