Chapter 156
Chapter 156
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.38 – The Knight Does Not Forgive the Golden Sun (4)
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It was an absurd notion by any common sense standard, but Salach intended to unleash terrorism against Pendragon right now.
Assassins.
That was what it meant to move those ominous crows.
However, Salach harbored not a shred of hesitation.
If things went according to plan, the Sultanate he ruled would gain immense power.
Perhaps even...
From Irene Windler onward, the south was brimming with mysteries of astronomical value worth targeting.
If he could claim even a few, he could afford to risk war.
It was more than worth it when considering the future.
That was certainly the case...
"Irene, Irene Windler. Would you please become my concubine?"
"...?"
Mysteries and war were no longer priorities in the Sultan's mind.
It felt like the missing half he'd searched for his entire life had finally appeared.
How could one possibly express this feeling?
At this moment, even he who was called Sultan was merely one of countless males courting a single woman.
He'd completely forgotten that he needed to abduct her, utterly enchanted.
"Ah, was that an rude proposal to you? Or perhaps you wish to become Sultana herself? Haha, with the power of Galahad in you, it might well be possible."
"Um, from earlier..."
Irene tried to say something.
Though passive by nature, there were times when one had to speak up boldly, right?
Especially...
'What kind of lunatic is this...'
When dealing with a madman who wouldn't listen to reason, all the more so.
Irene planned to politely ask, 'Could you please leave?' or 'Do you have some mental issues?'
Unfortunately...
Tak.
"Sultan. I tried to hold back, but what is the meaning of this? What insolence toward Miss Irene!"
"Mage, what are you doing? How dare you lay hands on me..."
Before Irene could even retort, a blond man aggressively confronted the Sultan.
Huey de Baylor.
The Magic Tower's chief disciple. As he angrily scolded the Sultan, Salach's expression turned icy cold.
"Mage. I am in the midst of conversing with her. I fail to understand why you would interject without knowing your place."
"Ha, conversing? From what I saw, you were just unilaterally babbling nonsense."
"Babbling nonsense? Did you just call me that, mage?!"
"What if I did?"
"You bastard!"
Salach flew into a rage.
Toward the lowly mage who dared to insolently disregard his station before the Sultan.
Yet his opponent was no pushover.
"Your place, you say! It seems the Magic Tower must look laughably weak to you."
The mage discarded all decorum.
As if there was no courtesy left to observe toward such an arrogant Sultan.
The Magic Tower was the ivory tower of mages.
Its power commanded fully forty percent of the vast Central Continent without exaggeration.
In other words, it could easily handle two or three Sultanates if it so desired.
Thus...
"Mage Irene is a treasure of the magical world, one who must become a valuable asset to the Magic Tower. Know this: if you display coercive attitudes toward her and engage in such absurd schemes, the Magic Tower will not overlook it. Remember that, foreign lordling."
"You-!"
The title of Sultan was tantamount to king, yet being demoted to mere "lordling" made Salach's blood boil more than ever.
Especially in front of a woman who caught his fancy?
This was an unbearable humiliation.
Thwack!
Salach immediately grabbed Huey's collar, and Huey, refusing to back down, seized Salach's in return.
A powder keg ready to explode.
Two men poised to clash at any moment.
And watching this...
"This is gold...!"
"The Magic Tower's chief disciple and the West's young Sultan fighting over one woman... tomorrow's headlines are set."
"Lady Irene has her faults too, heh."
The onlookers enjoyed the spectacle.
A power struggle over romance—such entertainment was rare indeed.
Nobles starved for stimulation and youthful elites watched with sparkling eyes as the drama unfolded over one woman, while the girl at its center...
"...I just wish they'd all disappear."
Irene openly expressed her desire to discard even what was being offered to her.
"...Hm."
Meanwhile, a certain gray-haired boy watching this farce scratched his head.
What was this ridiculous sideshow?
The more he watched, the more absurd it seemed. Gray-haired boy Derek glanced toward the blonde girl, just in case.
It felt a bit intrusive, like peeping, but...
"...Status."
Ding-.
"...I get exactly why those guys can't keep their heads straight."
Derek was dumbfounded observing the girl's traits.
Unique ones like 'Great Mage's Cradle' or 'Fairy Child' barely registered.
He'd expected those anyway.
What caught his eye were 'Nation-Toppling Beauty', 'Flatfish', and 'Frail Beauty'.
These were traits the devs tossed in as a joke—purely for laughs.
Flatfish only appeared if stamina was 2 or below, like a newborn just past its first birthday party. Frail Beauty was basically a brainwashing trait.
Especially effective on the rich or powerful, modeled after those sickly heroine tropes in dramas.
And Nation-Toppling Beauty...
'That's why the Sultan and mage are falling for her.'
It bewitches men.
Especially the arrogant ones who think highly of themselves.
"...A truly horrific combination."
How did she end up with such extreme traits?
Flatfish in particular was hard to acquire even knowing about it...
'Flatfish gives penalty judgments and extra ability corrections, but... no way I'd want it.'
Derek gave up trying to understand the girl.
She was armed with traits impossible to obtain even if desired, and they kept those two 'villains' glued to her.
Well, with the Sultan here, assassins were likely present too...
"...Moths to a flame?"
Entering a place guarded by an 'Lv.8 Class Hero'?
This was...
"Derek! Stop daydreaming and dance already!"
"S-Sorry, Karin. B-But isn't this the fifth time already...?"
"So you want a break?"
"...No."
"Then dance."
"......Yes."
Derek couldn't pursue the thought further.
He didn't want to anger his partner more.
Assassins.
The word from which "assassin" derives, they were closer to a religious order than a mere assassination guild.
In a way, akin to inquisitors—messengers of death who swiftly executed those violating their doctrines or adhering to other faiths.
Thus, Assassins were objects of fear even in the West.
Sultans hesitated to take them under wing because their convictions were too fervent, and their methods too brutal.
Once they struck, they didn't just eliminate targets; they massacred, abducted, and tortured the unrelated as well.
Sultans threw up their hands at such savagery, viewing them as untamable wild zebras.
In short, a pain in the ass.
Untamable, and using them risked backlash.
Hence, Assassins were rarely drawn swords in the West.
Entrusting them with tasks was inviting unforeseeable disaster.
However...
Their skill was undoubtedly top-tier on the continent.
They conversed solely in their coded language, most having their bodies extensively modified via the Assassins' great secret arts.
A group with not just combat prowess but unique constitutions and abilities.
If they willed it, they could kill anyone...
"-Do you have entry permits?"
"──."
They froze...
How long had he been standing there?
Perched on the rooftop gazing at the moon, he regarded the Assassins with calm eyes, but theirs were fixed on the men rolling at his feet.
Undoubtedly fellow Assassins who'd infiltrated ahead of them.
About ten, elites who could easily dispatch even a Knight Commander, yet such experts...
"Ah, are these guys bothering you? Your friends? Take them if you want. I won't stop you."
"......"
"...Not taking them? No loyalty."
Shing.
"You shouldn't draw those."
Dozens of Assassins drew peculiar blades.
Kukri.
Machete-like curved swords, symbols of the mightiest mercenaries, the Gurkhas.
And the group that drew them—
—surged toward the man.
With desperate resolve to eliminate the obstacle in their path.
Slash! Slash!
The blade dance of dozens of Assassins formed an inescapable cage of steel, undoubtedly a crisis.
Yet—
Sararak.
"......?"
The incongruously blooming flower—no, 'plum blossoms'—denied it as any crisis at all.
Stab!
Scattering plum petals pierced blades and flesh alike...
Splurt!
Blood fountains erupted with the plum blossoms, resembling mere petals.
Plum Blossom Blood Rain
Plum blossoms like a rain of blood.
Plum blossoms amid a rain of blood.
"Let's end this quietly. No needless commotion."
What good was interrupting the kids' play?
His—Lee Han's—quiet reprimand.