Urana: And the Last Revenge

Episodes 8.3 -9.1

Raie quickly turned around and a horde of servants were on the doorstep. Vailey took the lead, while Eve curled up behind the butler's back.

"You're looking for Miss Urana?" Vailey squinted full of intimidation. "It's a pity that he left because he couldn't stand what you did."

"You...." Raie takes a quick step, wanting to slap Vailey-or kill her this time as well. "Don't mind my life!"

Raie's attack was captured very easily by Vailey. Raie admitted, Vailey's instincts are quite sharp even though elderly.

"Too slow" Vailey said casually. He refused to let go of his grip. "It's not just this attack, but from the very beginning you served as a Count you didn't realize that we weren't on your side."

"I've guessed Urana's gone with your permission."

"From the honorable Count Faer." Vailey. "He would rather have Miss Urana leave here than stay in your grip. If you want to find her, you won't be able to find Miss Urana."

"In my name," Raie snapped out of Vailey's grasp and as fast as lightning struck her with a dagger, "there's no term 'Raie can't find prey'."

"Oh yeah?" The half-century woman grinned. More visible wrinkles around the lips. "I'll bet my position is lowered if you can find Urana, unless Miss is facing you herself."

"Hold your words." The sharp weapon in front of Vailey's neck vanished. The iron-plated burly hands brushed the servants aside violently. Sembrono, but Raie takpeduli. The pace is getting faster. Getting faster. Growing rapidly. Even his hand was clutching a sword. He called for some soldiers to ride the war horse. The troops were ready to leave with sharp weapons.

Urana is not worthy of forgiveness, Raie thought with a bloodthirsty look. Urana was more deserving of her gift of death, not happiness or apology.

Episodes 9.1

Troops of armor arrived in barren areas and uninhabitable buildings. The residents only saw it briefly before returning to activity. Whether it's chatting with other residents, making buying and selling transactions, or just a walk.

They don't know who Raie is? Alright. He drew a sword half a meter long. The scorching sunlight made his sword look sparkling and dazzling to the eyes. But again they saw it. Uninterested. Are they not afraid of death?

"Hey." A young man has been standing before Raie's horse. His hands were dirty, daring to stroke his horse.

"We know you're the one who replaced Count Faer" he said with a gentle smile, but Raie knew it was a sneaky smile. "Not to be surprised. The people here aren't afraid of you."

"Is that?" He got off the horse quickly and as fast as the wind had locked onto the young man's movements. The sword had moved to the front of the young man's neck. Actions that attract everyone's attention. Good, he thought with a triumphant grin. Fathers; mothers; even seniors who have the spirit of young people. Sharp weapons of various types had them clutched.

Poniard. Daggerlike. Knives. Crits. Whatever.

"DON'T EVER SET FOOT HERE, YOU SHITTLER!" One of the men ran with his hands ready to swing a machete at Raie. He should have known. Who is he dealing with.

The sword danced beautifully in Raie's hand, instantly piercing the man's chest. Screaming everywhere-mostly mothers.

"Where's Urana?" The swords again pointed at the hostages' throats, but they kept coming closer.