Ryker couldn't help but inwardly applaud the audacity. The city gates weren't even ten meters away. The guards at the top of the walls could still see them. And yet, they had already started wailing on him.
A grunt escaped Ryker when he felt a fist land right where his bruises were. His ribcage rattled and nearly snapped, air sweeping out of his lungs faster than he could inhale it back.
Shallow coughs left him, the large wooden box on his back breaking his fall as he slumped down. His shoulders got caught in their straps, his arms getting pinned upward as though he was being crucified on a cross.
The shirt that had covered his face slipped downward. Like a switch of the lights, Ryker broke out into a fit of laughter. He roared into the skies, his blue irises glowing like fiery, sapphire gems in the night.
The emotions burst forth in an endless tidal wave, his heart jumping with jubilation and his smile widening to the point his cheeks hurt.
The two burly men paused, confusion coloring their faces. The guards on top of the walls and on the other side of the gates were just as confused. The laughter was not coming from the nightwalker, so why were they hearing it at all?
The pale skinned young man was Francis Buderwoerk. If there were three of the most wealthy families to pick out of Smoke Tower City, it would be the Buderwoerk family, the Steward family and the Joseph family. They were all too familiar with this young man to not recognize his laugh.
Francis was just as confused as everyone else, but Ryker's laughter only became more uproarious and less restrained.
It had been 18 years! Almost two decades of his life he had spent slaving after this goal! He did nothing but push and push and push, dragging his weak body up this mountain and he could finally see the journey that lay before him on the other side!
Shouts of horror and agony cut through the night sky and the booming laughter. The two burly men found their thighs stabbed through by Ryker's sculpting knives.
As they fell to the ground, Ryker rose to his feet, his laughter continuing to resound. Whether by design or coincidence, the small mirror rose with him, hovering to the back of his head like a halo.
They both looked down on Francis, one quivering with a manic laughter and the other calmly reflecting the moon in the sky. It was an oddly picturesque scene, one painted by a life of hardship.
The burly men roared, leaping up from the ground. But it was clear that their movement was hampered. Ryker side-stepped them almost too easily, his sculpting knives carving at their flesh as though he was plucking out wood shavings.
He laughed and his arms danced in the air, his movements so unpredictable and erratic they couldn't make much of what was happening as their vision was painted in their own blood.
"YES! YES!" Ryker roared, a power filling his body, spilling out from his emotion and pumping him full of adrenaline he didn't know how to direct outside of a murderous rampage.
He stepped toward Francis, a wide grin speckled with droplets of blood on his face. The nightwalker was even paler than usual right now. Though he had strength of his own, who would feel at ease facing a madman?
Francis took a step back before he could stop himself. He felt like his very spirit was being crushed. Like he was a small beast facing its predator, his palms sweated and his heart beat out of his control.
He had already felt that Ryker was quite skilled before, but without cultivation, there was only so much he could do. Overwhelming him with numbers should have been easy since Ryker lacked a Spirit Beast.
But he was wrong. He was so wrong.
A blur flashed through Francis' gaze. He was far too late to react.
There was nothing but a feint on Ryker's part and then a sudden sharp stab.
Francis felt the spurt of blood first on his shoulder. As though a drizzle of rain had fallen on that region and that region alone, it soaked the cloth of his shirt through. The heaviness of the crimson liquid was so gripping that Francis didn't notice that it originated from his neck until he tried to open his mouth.
A harsh hiss and gross gurgle were drowned beneath Ryker's laughter, his hand still holding the sculptor's knife he used to pierce the side of Francis' neck.
The guards atop the walls were horrified. They couldn't see everything in as sharp detail as they would with the sun still up, but the light was more than enough to understand what had happened. Running through the consequences of such a thing in their minds left their limbs feeling cold.
"Open the gates!"
As Francis fell onto the ground, Ryker had already shot into the distance, his laughter still resounding through the night skies.
The roads at this time of night were already empty and the expanse around the city was mostly flat land. Picking out Ryker even without his manic laughter was all too easy. Yet, it didn't seem to matter.
By the time the guards on the wall relayed what was happening to those manning the gates and the city was reopened, Ryker was several hundred meters from them, his laughter still resounding.
"Dammit! Horses! We need horses! Form a team! We won't see the sun rise again unless we can find that son of a bitch!"