Chapter 307: Unmasked

The atmosphere inside the meeting room suddenly changed.

Just moments ago, the warriors had been listening to Chief Dross speak about the upcoming attack on Percvale. They had been confident, focused, united in purpose. The air had been thick with the energy of a people preparing for war, their voices rising in approval as their leader laid out the plan.

Now, one by one, they began reaching toward their faces.

Darion watched carefully. At first, he had not understood what they were doing. Then the first warrior removed his mask. His face was revealed beneath it. Another warrior followed. Then another. Slowly, faces began appearing throughout the room.

Darion’s eyes moved from one person to another. Some were young. Some were considerably older. Almost all of them carried scars. Cuts across their cheeks. Old wounds around their eyes.

Marks along their jaws and necks. Faces hardened by years of fighting. These weren’t men who had spent their entire lives training for war without ever experiencing it. These were warriors who had actually fought. And survived.

Darion’s attention shifted around the room. More and more masks came off. The meeting room that had been filled with identical masked figures suddenly became a room filled with individual faces. Different people. Different expressions. Different scars. Different identities.

And that’s when Darion finally understood. This wasn’t just some ceremony.

Darion had originally assumed the masks were simply part of Vrethka’s military culture. Maybe they were symbolic. Maybe they were meant to intimidate enemies. Maybe the Chief simply liked having his warriors look uniform. But now he realized that wasn’t the whole reason.

The masks had been hiding everyone’s identities. And removing them was the exact opposite. This was about knowing who was actually present. Knowing who was standing in the room. Knowing who could be trusted.

Darion’s stomach dropped.

’They wanted everyone to reveal themselves.’

The masks had allowed the warriors to appear as one force. But inside a meeting this important, the leadership needed to know exactly who was there. No outsiders. No strangers. No unidentified people. Everyone was expected to show their face.

’Fuck.’

Darion suddenly realized the trap he had walked into.

The process continued around him. Warriors removed their masks without hesitation. Some barely thought about it.

Others exchanged quick glances with their comrades as they did. There was a sense that everyone had done this before. It was almost like a ritual. A confrontation ritual. A way of saying: ’I am who I claim to be. You know who I am. And I know who you are.’

Darion remained still. His mask suddenly felt much heavier. He could almost feel it pressing against his face. A simple piece of armor that had protected his identity all night had now become the thing that exposed him.

’Just remove your mask.’

That’s what the others were doing. It was simple. Natural. Expected. Which made it impossible for him to refuse. If he kept his mask on while everyone else removed theirs, he would immediately stand out.

Darion’s mind began racing.

’I can’t take this off.’

The moment he removed it, everything would be over. Someone would recognize that he wasn’t the guard whose armor he was wearing. Even if nobody personally knew the dead guard, they would know Darion wasn’t supposed to be here.

Then they would realize what happened. The missing guard. The stolen armor. The stolen mask. The infiltrator standing in the middle of their leadership meeting. And then they would know exactly who that infiltrator was.

The Necromancer.

Darion’s heartbeat accelerated. He looked toward the door. Too many people. Nearly a hundred warriors. Even if he summoned every undead available to him, getting out of this room would be difficult.

And if he caused a disturbance here, the entire settlement would know. Seren was still outside. If Vrethka realized she was with him, she could be surrounded before he reached her.

’I can’t fight my way through this many people.’

He needed another option. Somehow.

Darion slowly lifted one hand. He didn’t touch his mask. Instead, he adjusted part of his armor. He pretended something was bothering him around his shoulder. He hoped nobody paid attention.

One warrior removed his mask. Another. Another. Darion kept his head slightly lowered.

’Come on.’

He waited. Maybe the moment would pass. Maybe the others would become distracted. Maybe he could wait until enough people had removed their masks and then somehow slip away. But the room wasn’t moving on. Everyone was doing it. Everyone was participating. And Darion was becoming increasingly obvious.

He adjusted his armor again. Slowly. Deliberately. Trying to look casual. But inside, he was panicking.

’Think.’

He considered pretending that he had some kind of injury. Maybe he could claim his mask was damaged. Maybe he could say he needed to leave. Maybe—

’No.’

Every excuse would create more questions. And questions were the last thing he needed.

Eventually, the warrior standing beside Darion finished removing his mask. Darion noticed him from the corner of his eye. The man turned toward him. Darion didn’t react immediately. He continued pretending to adjust his armor. But the warrior kept staring.

Darion slowly looked toward him. Their eyes met. The warrior’s expression changed. His eyes narrowed. He looked at Darion’s mask. Then at his armor. Then back at his face.

Darion’s stomach tightened.

’Don’t.’

The warrior’s eyes narrowed further. Something wasn’t right. Maybe he recognized something. Maybe the way Darion was standing was wrong. Maybe the man simply knew everyone who should be in this room. Whatever the reason, suspicion had appeared.

The warrior looked at Darion for another second. Then he spoke. His voice was low. But in the suddenly quiet room, everyone could hear him.

"You’re not one of us."

Everything stopped.

Darion froze. The room became completely silent. Warriors who had been removing their masks stopped what they were doing. Heads turned. One after another. Dozens of eyes settled on Darion. Some were confused. Others immediately became suspicious. A few warriors reached toward their weapons.

Darion stood in the middle of them. His disguise had failed. The moment he had been trying to avoid had arrived.

’Shit.’

His eyes quickly moved around the room. There was no way to talk his way out of this. Not anymore.

The man beside him shifted his stance. His hand moved toward his weapon. Darion saw the movement. His own hand immediately dropped toward his sword.

His mind became strangely calm. There was no time to think anymore. No time to create a complicated plan. If the warrior drew first, Darion could lose the initiative. And if the first attack landed, the entire room would explode into chaos.

’I have to move first.’

The warrior’s fingers closed around his weapon. Darion moved.

His sword left its sheath in one swift motion. SHING! Golden light immediately erupted along the blade. The familiar glow of Golden Light illuminated the space between them. The warrior barely had time to react.

Darion stepped forward and swung. SLASH! The blade cut through the warrior before he could fully draw his weapon. The man collapsed. His body hit the floor.

For one brief second, nobody moved. Darion stood over him, sword in hand. Golden light still flickered along the blade. His cover was gone. Every warrior in the room knew something was wrong. And now Darion had made the first move.

The instant Darion’s sword cut down the warrior beside him, the entire meeting room erupted.

For half a second, everyone simply stared. The body hit the floor. The golden light still flickered along Darion’s blade. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. It was as if the room itself had frozen, unable to process what had just happened.

Then—

Chaos.

Chairs scraped violently against the floor. Warriors shouted in confusion and anger. Weapons were drawn almost simultaneously, steel flashing beneath the torchlight. The sound was deafening, a wall of noise that hit Darion like a physical force.

"INTRUDER!"

"HE’S NOT ONE OF US!"

"GET HIM!"

Darion didn’t wait. He already knew what would happen if he stayed. Nearly a hundred warriors were packed into this room, and more would be coming once they heard the commotion. His only objective was simple. Get out.

He tightened his grip on his sword. The golden light surrounding the blade burned brighter.

’I don’t need to kill them all. I just need a way through.’

He lunged toward the nearest opening.

The first warrior reached him. Darion swung. CLANG! His golden blade crashed against the warrior’s weapon, forcing it aside. Darion followed immediately with another slash. The warrior dropped.

Another one took his place. Then another. Darion kept moving. He didn’t stop to finish fallen enemies. He didn’t waste time trying to fight properly.

Every attack was meant to create space. A slash across an arm. A kick to the chest. A sword strike that knocked another weapon away. Anything that allowed him to take another step toward the doorway.

"STOP HIM!"

"He’s escaping!"

"DON’T LET HIM OUT!"