Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor -
Chapter 64
“Hey.”
As the end of the alley came into view, the assassins initiated their move. They stopped quietly trailing and made their presence known. Just a few more steps and it would be a main road, so a narrow and dark place was more advantageous for killing someone.
“Ian?”
“Do you know me?”
Swoosh!
The moment they confirmed their target, the conspirators drew their swords and rushed in. They were wrapped up in black hoods, covering their faces and bodies so thoroughly that it seemed as if shadows themselves were attacking.
Clang! Clash!
Beric reflexively drew his sword to confront them. The blades met with such sharpness that sparks flew instantly. It was proof that the opponent had put in all their strength.
Swoosh!
And that meant they already knew of Beric’s abilities. They understood that if they couldn’t take him down with one strike, they had no chance.
Several kept Beric in check while another would try to thrust their sword. Cheeks, nape of the neck, and ribs – the attacks on him were relentless.
“Oh really?”
Sword clashed against sword in a pushing match. The sorcerer hadn’t unleashed his full power, but his opponent was pushing back quite forcefully.
Ian watched from a distance, retreating to keep an eye on the situation. The way they held their swords and maintained distance from their opponent was far from ordinary. These were not raw skills learned in back alleys, but those of someone who had received systematic training.
Given the circumstances, it was highly likely that they were directly associated with Molrin.
“Beric! That guy! Right, don’t kill that one!”
“Don’t kill him? Maybe just chop off an arm?”
“Do what you must…”
“Aaaargh!”
While asking, Beric shoved his sword into the thigh of one of the underlings.
‘But this is strange. If they know of Beric’s skills, they should also be aware that I am a magic user.’
There was no one attacking Ian. If Molrin knew the power of magic more than anyone else, he wouldn’t leave Ian alone, a clear target and obstacle.
Swoosh.
At that moment, numerous shadows stretched out behind Ian. Over a dozen armed thugs from the main road were entering the alley.
“Hah. Of course.”
There were more than expected. They had prepared thoroughly.
Ian tried to size up his enemies by eye, but it was challenging in the dark. As they drew their swords, Ian simply stepped back and smiled.
“You all must have a tough time at night.”
“Stop the nonsense. You’re Ian, right?”
“Yes. I’m Ian.”
He seemed to understand why the assassination plan had taken some time to go from planning to execution. Not only had there been no opportunity, but it also took time to gather this many people.
Ziiing.
Ian opened his golden eyes. Magic swirled, creating a subtle temperature change in the wind, and those who had never seen a sorcerer before were taken aback, hesitating.
However, that was only for a moment.
Believing in the overwhelming disadvantage, they approached closer.
“Are you all not afraid? Why do you do such things?”
“Shut up! Just give up your life without fuss.”
“Do you know how much money is on your head?”
In fact, throughout his training to be called a mage, a mana-user hardly had any useful magic. There was only the resonance of mana, still far from the glory that was once revered enough to turn the world upside down.
“Die!”
Swoosh!
Clang!
The man at the very front charged first. Ian also drew his sword and, swinging his arm widely, parried the attack to the side. At the same time, he grabbed the man’s face directly with his left hand.
“What-“
Buzzing!
And then he poured out his mana with all his might. Like what he did to Beric at the training ground, an invisible force flooded into the man’s inner being.
“Co, cough…”
As the man staggered back, the assailants also hesitated for a moment. Blood was flowing from every orifice: eyes, nose, mouth, ears. The man, wiping his face, shook his hands in panic.
‘This isn’t working.’
Ian frowned slightly as he looked down at his own hand. It wasn’t often used, but it was among the simpler attack spells. Normally, the man’s head should have exploded.
“What on earth is this—”
“Idiot. You should have just struck without hesitation, why the hell are you faltering!”
“It seems you all know each other quite well.”
“Someone about to die doesn’t need to worry about that!”
Given the crude and rough language, it didn’t seem like they were from the imperial palace. Perhaps commoners, from Bratz?
While Ian was pondering, the assailants, leaving the blood-soaked man behind, charged at him simultaneously.
“Yaaaah!”
Swoosh!
In an instant, the flashing blades appeared before them. It was Beric. He had knocked down those who were clinging to him and rushed over. Drops of blood dripped from Beric’s hair. Looking back, the ground had become a flood of blood—all from the assailants.
“I’m so sleepy, these fu*kers make us exercise in the middle of the night?”
“Beric, did you kill them?”
“Don’t know. Just stabbed.”
“…Beric. Just in case, keep one alive. I beg you.”
If they were not from the Bratz territory, it was necessary to find out where they were from. Cooperating with Molrin meant they were an obstacle for Ian.
Buzzing.
With that command, Ian grabbed Beric’s shoulder. His blood-soaked hair fluttered in the night breeze, and Beric’s vitality began to return. The clouds that had been covering the moon dispersed, and the surroundings gradually brightened.
“Ah… Is it because I’m tired? Today, the drugs really hit differently.”
“Even when you speak, must you talk like that?”
“Move it!! Fu*k!!”
Wham!
Beric’s fatigued voice ripped through the air. At the same time, someone’s head went flying.
Swoosh!
It happened so quickly that, even as blood spurted from the man’s neck, the assailants just stood there dumbfounded. The speed was so unreal, it couldn’t be felt as reality.
“Ugh, ugh, aghhh!”
“Kill him!”
“Forward, forward!”
“Don’t push, damn it!”
Beric, leaning against the wall, surged up and swung his sword. Indistinguishable screams scattered in every direction along the trajectory of his blade. There were those who tried to bypass him to reach Ian, but Ian, who was in a defensive stance, parried them with his sword.
Swish!
It didn’t seem like the movement of a human being. He effortlessly parried the rain of blades from all sides, not giving them the slightest chance. Reflexively deflecting, stabbing, cutting…
“Arghhh!”
“Damn it! Aaagh!”
In the narrow alleyway, the conditions seemed decidedly unfavorable for Beric, but in reality, the opposite was true. With just a little swing, someone’s vital spot was within reach; to Beric, the alleyway meant just that.
“Haah…”
And a moment later. A mountain of bodies and a pool of blood. Beric, too, was drenched in crimson, except for his eyes.
“I told you to leave one alive.”
“There’s one alive here. Twitching.”
Beric tapped the back of someone’s head with the tip of his sword. And soon after, he smirked and clenched his fist tightly.
“Ah! This feels so good!”
It was a different kind of pleasure from defeating a strong opponent. The feeling of slaughter that came from an overwhelming difference in strength. Occasionally, it seemed that instead of a fierce and desperate battle, this kind of thing wasn’t too bad. Like junk food, Beric savored just that amount of pleasure.
“Delightful! Refreshing! Satisfying! Hahaha!”
‘The man’s lost his mind.’
Ian, leaving the frenzied Beric behind, approached the group that had approached first. He started to remove their hoods one by one to check their faces.
Among them, a groaning man. The one Ian had ordered to be spared. Feeling the man’s torso, the well-defined muscles gave him assurance. A man who lived by his physical strength.
“He looks somewhat familiar…”
“Really? Let me see.”
“Don’t you think we’ve seen him passing by?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. But definitely not good-looking.”
The man grunted and twitched his left hand. Then, he brought his palm to his face as if to cover his cheek. Ian thought it was just the meaningless thrashing of a dying man.
He assumed it was just a ploy to cover his face…
“Aaaagh!”
“What, what’s wrong with him?”
“Damn!”
There was a ring fitted on the man’s left middle finger. It appeared to be a device with a built-in poison needle for suicide.
The man convulsed violently, screaming in agony. Ian reflexively tried to restrain him, but it was too late. As a makeshift measure, all he could do was stuff cloth into the man’s mouth.
“Gurgle…”
“Oh, has the face really lost its color?”
Beric muttered, stepping backward in a rare display of agitation. This was because necrosis was rapidly progressing around the area where he had been pricked by a poisoned needle. The flesh dripped off, and his form turned gruesomely. Even if this person’s parents were to come, they would likely not recognize him.
“There is one survivor and this person that need to be moved to the mansion. Go and call some people.”
It was a deliberate attempt to destroy his face to completely conceal his identity. That meant, the man had actively orchestrated this incident. If the man’s identity plunged into an abyss, it implied safety for Molrin.
At that moment, Beric nonchalantly kicked the man’s side.
“Should I carry him? But it’s heavy, so maybe I’ll cut some parts off.”
“Beric.”
“It’s a joke. Just a joke.”
The way to the main street was impassable with piles of bodies. Beric casually pushed through the corpses, and soon, the lights of the guardhouse that had been intentionally off for several days flickered on.
***
“Do you think he’s been taken care of?”
Mack drank his wine anxiously, not caring as it dribbled down his chin.
“Over ten of them. In that narrow alley, you’d get over a dozen injuries just by getting brushed once. It’s impossible for him to be unharmed.”
D’gor sat on the sofa in silence, replying. Even if they failed, their subordinate Petreio was not one to botch the clean-up. Possessing a poison needle that could melt faces, the connection between them and Molrin’s party would forever be silenced in obscurity.
“What if it fails?”
“Mack. You tend to worry too much.”
“It’s called being prepared!”
Bang!
Mack hit the table nervously. Molrin glared at him as if to tell him to control himself.
“Are you planning to wake up all the servants?”
“I’m, I’m sorry, teacher.”
“Petreio is an exceptionally skilled man. Though he’s aged, he was once the captain of the imperial guard directly serving under the prince in the royal palace, and most importantly, he is a man of his word, so there will be no betrayal. You know this as well as I do.”
Just a couple of youngsters.
While rumors of Beric’s exceptional skills were common, Molrin had only ever heard them in passing. Ian was also a practitioner of magic, but he was only sixteen. His limitations were clear.
“One can only unleash magic so many times. He’d collapse before taking down over a dozen strong men.”
“And even if, by some chance, they truly fail, could they easily implicate us without any evidence? If we die, another investigation team will be sent.”
That was the last scenario they wanted. Finally calming down a bit, Mack apologized, shaking his head.
“Sorry. I think, I got a bit carried away.”
That was when it happened.
Thump thump! Thump thump thump!
Someone banged on the door roughly. All three men tensed up and swallowed hard. In the dead of night, there were only two people who could be looking for them.
Petreio, who had succeeded in his mission.
Or…
“Who, who is it…”
Creeeak.
Red hair visible through the crack of the door. It was hard to tell if it was drenched in blood or if the skin had been peeled away, but the entire body was a bright red. Beric wiped his face and smiled.
“…Were you waiting for someone named Petreio?”
“What on earth…”
Molrin was also startled and stood up without realizing it.
“Everyone follow me as you are.”
“This, what kind of rudeness is this!”
Shiiing.
Beric responded to their outcry by drawing his sword. Then he pointed it at D’gor’s throat, approaching so close as if he were about to strike at any moment.
“Ian said to cut if you want to cut.”
“You lowlife! We are from the imperial palace…”
“I know. But this is the frontier.”
The frontier.
A place that opens up many possibilities.
“The frontier doesn’t care about that sort of thing. Ian.”
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