Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 2870

Andrew believed that things would be better once Reginald and he returned. He was also sure that certain people back in Holtrien, such as Guillermo, surely thought the same.

That was why Guillermo absolutely wanted Andrew dead in the Outlands.

Andrew absolutely intended to return home and ask Guillermo in person whether his head was really made of iron and impossible to cut off.

…

Far more than a hundred miles away, a small town welcomed another stranger.

It was the travel-worn Marshall!

His handsome face was rough with stubble after just one night. His gray eyes had lost much of their shine and looked noticeably dim. The neatly styled hair his attendant usually took care of now hung messily over his forehead.

For someone from an ancient noble house like the Ludendorff line, this was the most intolerable, most unbearable thing.

However, Marshall could not afford to care at the moment. That damned Holtrien bastard had way too much stamina.

Marshall had chased him relentlessly, closing the distance countless times. Yet, Andrew always sensed danger in advance and sped up to escape. What infuriated Marshall most was that Andrew's speed was genuinely impressive.

No matter how hard Marshall tried, he still could not catch up.

Of course, he had not gone all out. If he had unleashed his full strength, the chase would have ended already, and the fight would have begun.

However, doing so would put Marshall at a disadvantage. He trusted his own power and the absolute dominance of the Ludendorff family in the Outlands, but that did not mean he would let the other man fight while fully rested. If he burned everything at once, his stamina and combat strength would drop sharply.

Starting a fight under those conditions carried real risk.

Marshall was arrogant and proud, but he was not stupid. So, he stopped chasing for now.

All he needed was to know where Andrew was heading: Wraith Graveyard, for Reginald.

Perfect, since that was his goal as well.

In the town, Marshall walked into the same diner Andrew had visited earlier. Once seated, he devoured food and drinks without restraint. His restless anger finally eased a little.

One bearded thug sneered and reached out with a hairy hand toward Marshall's head.

"You little punk, you've got an attitude, huh? This is our territory. Just who the hell do you think you are?"

A killing chill flashed through Marshall's eyes, and the fork in his hand shot up without warning.

The next instant, a scream echoed through the diner. The steak fork was buried deep in the thug's eye socket, bursting his eyeball on the spot.

The remaining thugs roared in rage and reached for their weapons. Then came a series of sharp slicing sounds.

Marshall stood calmly where he was.

The other three thugs froze mid-motion, hands still half-drawn. The next second, they collapsed to the floor together.

At some point, all their throats had already been cut open by Marshall.