He made his move.
Silently, Adrian climbed down from his hidden perch and crept through the foliage, moving low. He scaled the makeshift wooden walls with practiced ease, slipping over the top and landing softly on the other side.
The camp was quiet. All the trolls had retreated into the cave to sleep—just as he had hoped.
He crept closer to the gate, positioning himself behind the two sentries.
"Maki no kiano ahulani," one of them grunted, thrusting his hips into the air—clearly talking about the female troll from earlier.
The other snorted and mimicked the gesture, adding a crude licking motion. "Maki no kiano lihuna sano li."
Adrian had to suppress a chuckle.
Jesus, he thought to himself, these guys deserve to die with what they're doing…
They were distracted, lost in their dirty little fantasy. It was the perfect opening. Adrian just needed a quiet and clean way to take them both out at once—and given their lack of attention, that wouldn't be hard.
Adrian reached into his coat and pulled out two slender objects—disguised toothpicks, compact and unassuming. With a silent flick of mana, he decompressed them, transforming them into the same razor-sharp stakes he had used earlier in his trap.
He crouched low, watching.
The two trolls were still immersed in their vulgar conversation, inching closer to each other in their excitement.
"Alino maki no sani ro naki," one of them muttered between chuckles, licking his tusks.
"Agli no ag lim—"
He never finished the sentence.
In a flash, Adrian darted forward, a stake in each hand. With precision born from both training and instinct, he drove each one into the top of their necks, severing the spinal cords in a single clean motion.
The trolls froze mid-motion, their eyes wide in shock.
Paralyzed.
Not a sound escaped their throats. They dropped where they stood, twitching slightly—alive, but utterly helpless.
Adrian stepped back into the shadows, already planning his next move.
He waited. A few minutes passed. No one came.
He stepped forward.
With the same sword he'd used before, he slit both trolls' wrists, then severed their hands in one smooth motion—clean, efficient. Their roars were muffled by unconsciousness.
Using matter manipulation, he pulled the blood from their bodies, siphoning it mid-air into a controlled sphere.
Thirty liters.
Added to the thirty he'd already taken from the first three, that made sixty total.
He stored it the same way as before—condensed, sealed.
The two trolls weren't dead. Their brains were intact. That meant healing. Even shattered spines wouldn't stop them. In a few days, they'd be good as new.
But for now, they were broken and quiet.
Adrian started walking away when a thunderous roar tore through the air behind him.
He turned.
A massive troll—clearly their leader—charged straight at him from the direction of the camp.
"Fuck," Adrian muttered, startled, and broke into a full sprint.
But he was too slow.
The troll's fist slammed into his back. Adrian flew chest-first into a tree near the camp. Bones cracked; his ribs shattered.