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Overpowered Pawn - Prologue
🕑 Added 2025-10-11 20:47:32 +0000 UTCMorgan Vale would have escaped had it not been for the arrow in his ass.
It had caught him unawares, shot by one of the camouflaged bastards in the trees.
The man had chortled after he hit the target, too. Morgan’s elite hearing had picked it up, and he cursed himself for not activating it earlier.
The worst part was that the assassin wasn't alone. He alerted his friends to continue spraying arrows in the air, shooting even as Morgan fled. Dickheads.
Luckily, Morgan threw up his extensive shield of flames and boosted his speed as he sprinted through the forest.
He heard the rustles in the trees as they came after him. One, two, three, four....there were twenty of them. He counted each footstep, evaluated their weight, experience, and training just from how lightly they moved.
These were no ordinary assassins.
They were Knight-pathed. Likely BlackHawks, specialized in killing and dark magic.
They sent twenty BlackHawks to kill little old me, he thought as he leapt into the trees, shooting flames from each finger that hit three of them. I’m almost flattered.
He heard a few screams before they put out the flames with their water shields. They'd come prepared.
Morgan dropped back to his feet and continued running. The arrow dug deeper with every step, but he didn’t have time to pull it out and deal with the bleeding that would ensue. Not to mention that it was poisoned, and he would need to deal with that the second he took it out.
He had to get rid of the pursuers first.
While he was usually against loud, aggressive displays of his power, he had no choice.
He leaped onto a branch, swung himself high enough in the air to be framed by the moonlight, and spotted the shifting shadows in the trees.
Three of them leapt up for him.
More arrows came his way.
But they didn't hit, not before he cupped a fist over his mouth and blew a large gust of fire that scorched not only them but the trees behind them.
<HELLSBREATH>
They screamed murder as they burned, and it was music to his ears. He'd recently leveled up his <FIREBREATHER> skill to <HELLSBREATH>, which produced evergreen flame that would burn until whatever it consumed was no more.
No water shield would put it out.
The only thing was that if he wasn't careful, the entire forest would be reduced to ash by morning.
<HELLSBREATH> was an incredibly destructive power, and he wouldn't have used it if he weren't desperate, especially given that it was nearly famine season.
Burning down the forest would certainly make the famine worse, and Morgan couldn't let people suffer just because he was fighting with these idiots.
He needed to get out of this forest and take the fight with him.
Now he regretted taking this path, because the forest went on for miles and miles.
He’d only stepped in here to pick out a daisy for his wife. It was her favorite flower, and today, it would be an apology for running late to their anniversary dinner.
He'd had the whole night planned out.
She probably made roast beef and potatoes. He'd bought some quality wine from a pirate a few days ago.
The kids would already be in bed by now…well, Sage and Melissa would. Arthur would be pretending to be in bed while reading one of his books under the covers.
But Arthur wouldn't interrupt them unless he got thirsty. He’d simply give them a wry look in the morning and make one of his sly jokes that would make his mother blush and his father smack him on the back of the head.
But apart from that, tonight would have been perfect. The moon was full, the breeze cool, and he didn't have to patrol in the morning.
It would be a shit night to die.
Morgan was tempted to use <FLASHSIGHT> to check on his family. After all, if assassins were coming for him, then his family might be in danger. But he resisted. He couldn't afford to be distracted right now. He needed all his faculties intact to survive this encounter.
She's safe, he told himself. They're all safe. I would know if they weren't.
A close-range assassin ran out of the trees and caught up to him, intercepting his flame shield.
They slashed, poisoned daggers that were always just a millisecond from knicking him right before Morgan dodged.
The assassins were joined by five more surrounding him. Morgan released another gust of flame and used <FLASH FORWARD> to phase through them.
He kept going, but he felt his legs growing numb. The poison was slowing him down, damn it, and reducing his mana reserves. It would have knocked out a weaker opponent by now. But Morgan kept flashing forward, using up his mana just so he could escape them.
When he was finally far away, in the middle of the forest, he slowed down.
But before he could take out the dagger, a man melted out of the darkness, and Morgan jerked back.
Balls. He'd been led into a trap.
“Olan,” Morgan said. “Of course. I should have known.”
The masked assassin didn’t speak, and he charged at Morgan with his blades, too. He moved swifter than the rest, cleaner. He nearly got Morgan a few times, and eventually nicked him on the cheek, before Morgan sent him flying with a blow.
It was only one cut, but the poison would wreak havoc in his bloodstream.
It was the damn arrow’s fault. It had ruined his dexterity, leaking into his bloodstream through his recently acquired fat ass.
Mary warned you that you were packing it on, you idiot, he thought. You had a little too much fun with her tarts and funnel cakes, didn’t you? I knew I should have lost weight earlier. You were right, my Mary Bell.
As flippant as his thoughts seemed, it was only to cope with the sheer rage and anger that was shaking in Morgan's bones. Fear, too, because dying would mean leaving his family behind, and leaving them to the mercy of the very same people who betrayed him and who were now trying to kill him.
He was mostly angry at himself for letting his guard down, for even just a second.
Why on Earth would I think that I could go pick flowers without a weapon? Why did I think that because the war was called off, everything would be peaceful? Why did I think I could tangle with a snake and not get bitten?
Well, it wasn't so much that he didn't think he would get bitten. It was that he didn't think it would happen this quickly.
As the assassin approached again, Morgan got ready. This one wouldn’t be as easy to kill as the others.
“I’m not necessarily hurt by the betrayal,” he said. “More so confused. The King is dead. We've only just signed the treaty. You and Borgan are inciting a war you can never win.”
The cloaked figure didn’t speak.
He simply held out his hand and chanted the words that invited death.
