"Geor's Dagger, just a fool relying on the power of relics."
The long-armed assassin said, twirling the dagger in his hand. One of his eyes gleamed.
A mysterious eye, a magical prosthetic.
From the start, that eye looked strange, so it wasn't surprising the relic didn't work. That's why Jaxon remained calm.
He also saw the hole in his own cloak. It was a trace left by the dagger.
The arm had stretched unnaturally, slicing through the cloak and pulling back.
Even so, there was no agitation. Jaxon remained indifferent, inside and out.
However, his opponent didn't think the same.
"You seem flustered. You should have stabbed when you had the chance."
It was the white-haired man with a monocle, speaking in a lecturing tone.
"Is there really a reason to stay under that guy? You can still change your mind."
It was a woman, speaking with a disguised voice from among the assassins, though she was hiding while speaking. She was the cautious type, and a skilled liar.
Even if Jaxon changed his mind here, there was nothing to gain. It was just a ploy to make him show an opening.
"What? Stab? Weren't you embarrassed to even say that?"
The white-haired monocle wearer brought it up, clearly irritated by Jaxon's taunt.
"So, now that you've lost the relic, what will you do?"
This voice came from behind. Jaxon turned his head. Even though it was broad daylight, the place the voice came from seemed to darken, as if the shadows between the alleyways grew deeper. The figure, half-hidden in shadow, was an expert at concealment.
The method was obvious.
'Shadow Walking.'
A technique of moving by sticking to shadows with different light sources. It's something taught as a basic skill in Geor's Dagger guild.
Jaxon never used it after learning it. Against opponents with good focus or sharp instincts, it's a risky move.
'It wouldn't even work against the leader.'
It wouldn't fool Encrid either.
Jaxon quietly took off his pierced cloak and loosened his belt.
"Giving up?"
The disguised voice among the assassins asked.
"Heh heh. So, have you reconsidered? It's not too late. The privilege of making new choices is something young people enjoy."
The white-haired monocle wearer said.
"Hmph."
The long-armed one, who resembled a monkey, snorted.
The hidden figure slowly retreated, concealing his presence.
Despite their words, the oppressive atmosphere pricked Jaxon's skin like needles. They were ready for battle.
Jaxon, eyes downcast, spoke.
"Was it Viscount Mernes who sent you lunatics?"
To unite various assassin guilds under the name of an alliance, it had to be someone of noble rank.
The one who ordered the hit needed to have the power to make or break the assassin guild's survival with a single job. Only a noble with considerable influence could have been involved.
Given the current circumstances, it had to be someone prominent within the Royal Court or an influential faction.
Otherwise, these assassins would have been acting independently.
Factoring in the opponent's choices, Jaxon could guess.
He could see the intentions of the person who ordered this.
'Someone who finds my mere existence annoying and troublesome.'
That's why they were after him like this.
They didn't stop Encrid from heading to the Royal Palace, they didn't rush to kill Marcus, and they left those heading to the city gate alone. Instead, the whole assassin alliance pursued him.
Their top priority was to eliminate him.
Why?
Because he was a nuisance.
There were two types of people selling information on Black Lily.
One group was those who had stumbled upon it by chance.
The other was those directly involved.
This time, it was the latter.
If it wasn't, they wouldn't be so serious about removing him.
Had things not escalated, it might have been unclear, but at this point, it was easy to deduce.
And once he realized it, Jaxon couldn't help but feel a twisted sort of joy.
Was it Encrid's influence? Jaxon let his emotions show. He smiled.
Seeing that, the white-haired assassin frowned.
"Are you going to claim you stabbed him again? Or come up with some other nonsense?"
It seemed he was still bitter about being outwitted by Encrid.
No wonder. Just before they parted ways, the leader had been on fire, seemingly possessed, talking nonstop.
"You said you'd tell me if I stabbed you, and now you're going back on your word?"
"That was a stab..."
"Where has your honor gone? You claim to be a renowned assassin guild from the Capital, but this is absurd!"
"No, it was a stab..."
"Shut up! How dare you wag your tongue after breaking your word! The scar on my arm proves everything!"
"It's not that..."
"Ha, what a disgrace."
"You crazy bastard. Will you listen for a moment?"
"All you could say was 'ouch, ouch.' What now?"
No matter what the opponent said, Jaxon only listened, and then, in the end, pretended to raise his forearm and threw a Whistle Dagger, embedding it in the head of the assassin who had been standing there watching.
The fight began immediately, and the opponent didn't even have a chance to defend himself after that.
Was it enough to drive someone mad with rage?
Perhaps. No matter how much they tried to maintain their composure, the leader always managed to get under their skin.
Even Jaxon himself sometimes found his temper rising, so it was no wonder these others were fuming.
"I did stab."
Jaxon said.
"Damn it, kill him!"
The white-haired assassin's shout signaled the others to charge at him from all directions. Jaxon already knew there were twenty-eight of them.
He had counted. It was a habit. And then he disappeared.
"What the—!"
The long-armed assassin, who had been watching with his magical eye, shouted in surprise.
Thud!
The sound of flesh being pierced echoed. Jaxon reappeared in the alley, within the deep shadows.
One of the alliance's leaders, who had been hiding there, coughed up blood, fell to his knees, and collapsed forward.
"How…?"
The magical eye couldn't detect him? But he no longer had the relic, right?
Jaxon, suddenly reminded of Encrid, opened his mouth to speak.
"With hard training."
It was the perfect answer to the question of 'how'?
After that, Jaxon's figure repeatedly vanished and reappeared several times.
The second to die was the female assassin with the disguised voice.
She had quickly hidden among her group, but Jaxon, who had disguised himself as one of her subordinates, was already beside her, stabbing her in the abdomen with a stiletto.
Stab stab stab.
Three quick thrusts, like jabs from a fork, left her innards full of holes.
He had pierced her lungs and heart, so not even a high priest could save her.
Her final sound was neither a scream nor a moan, but rather a strangled gasp, her last breath and her final words.
Jaxon kept moving.
A relic? He used it simply because he had it. He never relied on such things in the first place.
So it didn't matter that he no longer had one.
Today, he felt lighter.
He knew what he had to do, and the path ahead was clear.
'Mernes.'
He had always suspected that a noble might be involved with the Black Lily. Even if Viscount Mernes wasn't the mastermind, there was likely some connection.
So after killing these assassins, Jaxon's destination was clear.
The Royal Palace, where Viscount Mernes resided.
And so he did. He killed them one by one until there were no more attackers left, then headed toward the Royal Palace.
By the time the sun was high in the sky, casting long shadows, Jaxon noticed something strange as he looked toward the setting sun.
He saw a person running across the rooftops, smashing through them as they went.
He recognized the figure, though he didn't acknowledge them.
* * *
The fight began with Dunbachel. At least she was more eager than Ragna, so it was fitting. She moved back and exited through the open gate.
Lawford was already positioning some of the troops outside the walls.
'If they seize control of the gate, it's all over.'
The difference in numbers was stark. That meant they had to hold the line at the front.
With archers, arrows, and siege preparations lacking, the remaining forces had to make up for it with their own strength and bodies.
Of course, all of this was based on the assumption that the ten enemies who had advanced first could be held back.
'If we can just hold them off.'
No one was hoping for a complete slaughter.
Lawford watched as Dunbachel moved forward.
She glanced over the ten enemies blocking her path and smiled.
It was an innocent-looking smile, like that of a country girl fresh from the countryside.
But she hadn't just arrived from some rural area, and that smile certainly wasn't innocent.
She was merely executing something she had learned from Encrid.
The Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, known as the 'Smiling Face'.
Encrid had used it on her several times, and now she had adapted it to her own style.
This was the brilliance of talent.
She had no hesitation in absorbing and utilizing techniques.
Rem had beaten her to improve her overall physical abilities, and Dunbachel had trained herself in the actual techniques.
And now, it was paying off.
"What the hell?"
One of the mercenaries muttered just as Dunbachel kicked off the ground and leaped forward.
With the speed of a leopard, she darted into the enemy ranks.
She closed the distance in an instant, and the soldier in the front froze, unable to even lift a hand.
Her blade came crashing down on his head.
Thud, splat!
With a single powerful strike, she shattered his skull. The soldier next to him reflexively thrust his spear.
There was no power behind the movement, so Dunbachel simply tilted her head to dodge, pressing her cheek to her shoulder, and then grabbed the spear shaft between her neck and shoulder, twisting her body to rip the weapon away from him.
"…Ah."
The soldier who lost his spear let out a foolish noise. He wasn't killed. Dunbachel dropped the spear to the ground and dashed forward.
"Stop her!"
The Commander, finally regaining his composure, shouted.
Two of the warriors at the front moved. They were known for their speed and were among the quickest on the battlefield.
Even so, they could only barely keep up with Dunbachel.
"Move aside!"
In her beast form, she charged ahead, and the soldiers parted to let her through.
They weren't a disorganized rabble, but neither were they elite soldiers.
Viscount Mernes' army was, at its core, a collection of various forces.
It was a unit with just enough of a command structure to function.
Dunbachel weaved through them, leaping off soldiers' shoulders and heads, swinging her blade as she went.
When she finally reached her target, she swung her blade with merciless force. But she didn't cut. Instead, she spun the handle, striking with the flat side of the blade.
Thud! Crack!
One of the mangonels, the siege weapons they had prepared, cracked in the middle.
Dunbachel knew the walls were her allies' biggest advantage. After years as a mercenary wandering the continent, she was well-versed in all sorts of battles. She understood that removing the greatest threat was the key.
So she smiled, making her opponents drop their guard, and then charged. Simple, but the most efficient tactic.
"Are you crazy?"
Suddenly, one of the enemies appeared right next to her.
It was one of the ten who had been in front earlier. He lunged at her with a short spear.
He was quick on his feet and with his hands. Dunbachel deflected the spear with her blade and slammed her left foot into the ground with a resounding 'thud', spinning her body as if she were about to attack.
The enemy, who had been trying to close in, backed off. Another one, who had been following behind, also adjusted his stance to get behind her.
"Let's end this."
Dunbachel spoke and then leaped in the opposite direction. It seemed random and unexpected.
Of course, she learned it from Encrid.
The Valen Mercenary Sword Technique, acting in reverse.
It was a feint, moving in a completely unexpected way while making a bold statement.
What advantage did this give her?
It allowed her to achieve her goal more easily.
She wasn't there to fight these two mercenaries, but to destroy the mangonels first.
The two mercenaries chasing her faltered for a moment.
What the hell was that?
The beastfolk, who seemed skilled, was using a variety of tricks.
Compared to Encrid or Rem, deceiving these two was a simple matter, and Dunbachel was enjoying herself.
In fact, she was a little excited.
It had been a long time since she fought someone weaker than her.
As Dunbachel created chaos, the enemy finally began to rush in.
"Kill them all!"
The owner of the horned helmet shouted.
His name was Yon, a top warrior from the East.
A blonde man approached him, walking slowly. Despite Yon's shout, and the Viscount's army pushing forward, he remained calm.
Even as arrows began to rain down overhead, he acted like it didn't concern him.
Ragna, with his long, thick sword resting on his shoulder, opened his mouth.
"Come all at once. I'm getting annoyed."
"You."
Yon didn't get angry or rush in. Instead, he raised his beloved weapon, a glaive. The blade at the end gleamed with a blue light. It was made of Valyrian steel.
Ragna looked at it, wondering what it would be like to take it and melt it down.
"Let's go together."
Yon said. Some of his men frowned, but no one objected.
They could tell just by looking that Ragna wasn't someone to be taken lightly.
"Time's on our side. Take it slow."
Yon added. His men followed his command. One of the mercenaries swung a chain overhead and then hurled it forward.
The spiked weight at the end, driven by centrifugal force, flew toward Ragna's head.
Thump.
Ragna, who had lowered his sword at an angle, swatted the weight aside.
The heavy metal at the end of the chain looked more than capable of crushing a human skull.
"Hit him!"
Yon shouted.
Battle, fighting, blood, war—Yon loved all of it. He charged forward to see it happen, bringing his glaive down in a vertical strike.
With a whoosh, the glaive descended swiftly and powerfully.
Clang!
Ragna parried the blow. At the same time, one of the Viscount's warriors lunged with a spear.
The flexible shaft of the spear swayed unpredictably, making a whirring sound as it cut through the air.
Ragna's sword blocked the glaive and then swatted away the unpredictable spear.
Thwack!
The spear was knocked aside.
Even though Ragna had blocked three attacks, another came immediately.
Another spear.
This one didn't bend but instead thrust forward with force. It was a different warrior, one confident in his strength.
Ragna parried the blow with his heavy sword.
Clang!
The sound of metal rang out.
After this exchange, Yon had gauged his opponent's skill.
A monster.
As for Ragna…
He was only defending because he had been told to, but he had no real enthusiasm for the fight.
Why the lack of motivation? He didn't even bother to think about it.
It was just his normal state.
If he really wanted to kill them all, he could. But that would require effort, and he might even suffer minor injuries.
Was that necessary? No, it wasn't. A genius who had lost his sense of purpose, Ragna was lazy even in battle.
Perhaps it was because he had been too motivated lately.
He had been too active recently, which made him feel unmotivated now.