Chapter 115
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 115
"Hey, I can see you," I said, rising to my feet.
Bzzzt, bzzzt.
The darkness rippled. Sparks of electricity crackled here and there, revealing a Camouflage Combat Suit. It was a sealed, full-body model, so the wearer's face stayed hidden.
The sight of it brought Rick Silva Nunez to mind. But the enemy before me was far smaller than Rick—about my own size.
"You are not my target. Step aside if you want to live."
The helmet's visor glowed crimson. The voice, warped by a synthesizer, was stripped of all emotion. I let out a dry laugh.
"It's been a while since someone looked down on me this hard the very first time we met."
"I'm not looking down on you. I'm a professional. I try not to kill anyone but my target."
I strained my ears toward the back room. Fransek and Ren were still fooling around in there. They had no idea I was squaring off against an enemy.
Something's off.
The pieces didn't fit. It was that faint sense of wrongness that kept me talking to the enemy.
From what Fransek said, it sounded like he'd hired some third-rate assassin.
But the assassin in front of me—strange personality aside—was anything but third-rate.
The Camouflage Combat Suit was expensive, and their balance while moving was flawless. Watching those light, nimble steps, I doubted I could land a hit even with a gun.
Above all, I hadn't sensed them enter the house until they were right beside me. Me, of all people.
Combat instincts are usually dead-on. They rarely lie. And when they do, it means serious injury or death.
"Do you even know who the man beyond that wall is?" I asked, slowly drawing Crucis. I deliberately called him "the man" rather than "the person."
The assassin Fransek arranged was hired to kill Ren Itanori.
The assassin showed no confusion at the word "man." Which meant they weren't the one Fransek had hired.
"I know. But I don't care. This is your last warning, boy. Step aside. I was also asked to leave as many witnesses as possible."
The assassin reached for their waist and drew dual swords, gripping them in reverse and settling into a stance.
It was an unusual pairing. One blade ran about the length of a forearm, the other long enough to reach the shoulder. The mismatched lengths would make them tricky to handle.
If they weren't sent to kill Ren Itanori...
Then this assassin had been commissioned by someone else. The one Fransek hired was probably already a corpse rotting in some back alley.
This one was sent by Ivan Cracia.
I traced the current of Ivan's thoughts, slipping into his shoes.
To wreck the plans of the Emperor and Kinuan, Fransek has to die far earlier than scheduled.
That would shatter the grand design of the Emperor and Kinuan. A massive upheaval would swallow the Empire whole.
Chaos, chaos, chaos...
My thinking was closing in on its destination. I was starting to understand where this dual-wielding assassin had come from.
Their confidence, their utter contempt for imperial royalty. And Ivan's method for stirring up even greater chaos...
...That assassin wasn't from the Empire. They were from Bellato or Kora.
If someone from Bellato or Kora assassinated the Crown Prince of the Empire... it meant immediate war. Especially given that the target was Fransek, wildly popular with the public.
The Emperor and Kinuan were going to use Fransek as a trigger for war too! Those crazy old bastards!
Curses rose naturally in my throat. Fransek was a sacrificial lamb, meant to forge "imperial unity" on the eve of war. If their own Crown Prince fell to a foreigner's blade, the citizens of the Empire would rally as one to march to war.
The current situation was Ivan's handiwork.
He must have smuggled a foreign assassin into the heart of the Empire through some channel of his own.
It felt as if Ivan's eyes were peering straight into me. That ominous gaze kept flickering through my mind.
Even if everything goes exactly as Ivan planned—it's still war. And much faster than the Emperor and Kinuan intended!
This wouldn't be like the intermittent skirmishes of the past. It would be all-out war, the full might of nations poured into the fire. The hellblaze of it would devour continents and planets alike.
But... if war broke out now, the Custoria family could survive. Heilas's safety would be assured too. They couldn't purge key military figures on the eve of total war.
Of course, there was no telling what came after. But by then I'd have grown stronger, and Ivan might have taken the throne.
If we could just buy time, the era of the Emperor and Kinuan would pass, and the era of Ivan and me would arrive. They'd weaken. We'd rise.
"When the time comes, play your part. You are my Watcher, and no one else's."
Ivan's words came back to me. The time had come, and I understood his intent. I knew the task he'd entrusted to me.
Clink.
My arm went slack, and the tip of my blade kissed the floor.
If Fransek died, I'd be held accountable for failing my guard duty. I might even be executed. But I had past achievements and the backing of the Custoria family. Above all, Ivan would move heaven and earth to save me. And if my judgment was wrong—well, I'd just die.
"Excellent decision. If I say so myself, I'm incredibly strong. Even if not a soul in this country knows my name..."
Seeing my lowered arm, the assassin drifted forward, moving to slip past me.
"How much did they pay you?"
The assassin halted at my question and tilted their head. I could almost feel a smile behind the helmet.
"Enough to change not just my life, but the lives of countless others."
"But a war will break out."
I knew combat. I'd never known war. And yet even simple skirmishes bred countless tragedies. I understood the scale of the catastrophe war would bring.
"That's none of my concern," the assassin replied, flat.
"...I see," I said, letting out a soft breath. Time was short, but thoughts ran long. So many faces flashed through my mind.
Shring.
I raised Crucis, blocking the assassin's path.
"I have to stop you after all. This isn't right."
I'd made my decision. The assassin studied me with a cocked head.
"There is no right or wrong in this world, kid."
I knew that much. The world was far too tangled to be sorted into simple right and wrong.
"Maybe right and wrong don't exist in this world. Maybe they don't exist for you... but they exist for me."
So I get to decide what's right.
"In the end, it's just, 'I'm right, and you're wrong.' Ah, youth, my boy. But a youth as fleeting as a spring blossom will wither beneath my blade."
The assassin murmured it like a line of poetry, tapping their feet lightly, stepping back.
"Shut up and bring it, dumbass," I said with a smirk.
Having opened the distance, the assassin flickered and vanished.
Clang!
We collided.
* * *
I, Lucaus Custoria, clashed with the unknown assassin.
To put it simply: in under a minute, my severed left Prosthetic Arm was rolling across the floor. No excuses. I'd been driven back in close-quarters combat by nothing but raw difference in skill.
Though it had been less than a minute, it felt like I'd been fighting for days without sleep. That's how long the perceived time stretched, and the exhaustion pressed hard on my mind.
"Fuuu..."
For the first time since the fight began, I got the chance to breathe.
Now—survey the surroundings, reassess the situation.
First: the house that had become our battlefield was utterly wrecked. Walls shattered, windows blown out. Every clash crumbled furniture and drywall, opening the space into a wide, exposed clearing. Broken items worth more than my monthly salary lay scattered everywhere.
"What in the world is..."
Fransek's shocked voice drifted from behind me. With the wall partly demolished, he could see us through the gap.
Fransek clearly hadn't anticipated any of this either. Ren had screamed and fainted long ago.
I still had to fight while shielding Fransek. And I had no idea how long backup would take.
The second surprise was the assassin's identity. Not that I'd learned her name or history.
A woman...
Through the half-shattered helmet, a woman's face was visible. The rugged lines of the combat suit had made me assume a man, but no. Her face was covered in scars—like any seasoned warrior or soldier.
...And her body is flesh and blood. Not even her limbs are mechanical.
Whether it was the sheer support of her combat suit or biological enhancement, I couldn't say. But with a body untouched by cybernetics, she outmatched me in close quarters.
Without Akies Victima, I'd already be dead. This assassin's combat ability far exceeded a cadet's. It was safe to assume she was on par with—or above—a high-ranking Imperial Guardsman.
Bzzzt, bzzzt.
Sparks crackled from the severed stump of my left arm.
Fortunately, I wasn't the only one catching my breath. She'd been fighting at high speed too, so she needed the air just as badly.
Either way, the first clash had cost me my left arm. Once we'd both recovered our wind, I'd be fighting at a disadvantage.
"You fight strangely. That's not the Empire's combat style..."
The assassin said it while tossing aside her cracked helmet. Free of the synthesizer, her voice came out sharp and clear.
There was still one saving grace. She didn't know the Akies Combat Style. Maybe because my fighting and my motion optimization gave off such a strong sense of wrongness, she wasn't charging in recklessly.
"Your Highness, honestly—I might lose. I'll buy time here, so please run."
I said it without looking back.
Whoooosh.
Through the broken glass and gaping walls, the fierce high-rise wind swept through the house.
Dammit.
Just my luck—a cloud of dusty debris blasted across my face. I kept my right Cybernetic Prosthetic Eye wide open and shut the other for a moment.
And my opponent was a veteran. Seizing on my narrowed vision, she lunged for my left.
A swift, precise call.
She had every right to be proud of her strength.
Swish!
Closing on my left, the assassin leaped and spun. It wasn't that I opened my left eye to see it—I read it purely from shadows and sound.
I ducked under the enemy's blade. Then I brought my leg up, aiming a kick.
I didn't care if my leg got sliced open. I was outmatched in skill and experience. Only by accepting what needed accepting could I catch her off guard.
My strengths were the uniqueness of Akies Victima and my prosthetics. Even if my Prosthetic Body took damage, I had to keep manufacturing variables, engineering situations that favored the Akies Combat Style.
Go ahead and cut my leg.
Because then my blade would tear through your torso. Your pristine guts would get their very first glimpse of the outside world.
The kick was a trap; my real attack was a spinning slash. If she stepped back to avoid it, I'd loose Crucis in a lazy arc and use it like a boomerang.
My dual-processing mind had already mapped the checkmate. I'd laid a double trap in a fraction of a second.
Thud!
But the assassin defied my expectations. She tapped lightly against the tip of my foot, borrowing the impact.
Whoosh!
Barely grazing my foot, she was flung all the way back to the outer wall. At that distance, throwing Crucis wouldn't reach her.
You sly little—!
The assassin hadn't learned Akies Victima. Just how much real combat had she seen to make a read like that? My curse was practically a compliment.
As she flew back, her eyes darted briefly toward Fransek.
Pfft!
Light flashed from her hand. A needle-like throwing weapon streaked toward Fransek.
Swish!
Fransek dodged it while yanking Ren into his arms. He was a member of the Imperial Family, the Crown Prince himself. His prosthetics were top-grade, and he'd surely had basic combat training. He could evade a half-hearted strike.
"Tsk."
Reaching the outer wall, the assassin clicked her tongue and seized an exposed steel beam. She meant to climb the building's exterior and enter Fransek's room.
Claaaaang!
I hurled Crucis. It flew toward her, smashing through debris, walls, and windows.
She stretched an arm out to grab another frame and dodged. I hadn't expected to kill her with it anyway. I just needed to cut her off and buy time.
I bit down on the Grakken Boot and dashed forward, then thrust my right arm out, smashing through the wall to clear a path.
"Hey, you—"
Realizing my intent, her eyes widened. I smirked around the Grakken Boot clamped in my teeth. The blade nicked the corner of my lips.
Rumble!
I leaped and drove my heel into the floor. High output plus a spin turned the downward strike into a quake, collapsing a whole section of the building.
The outer wall she was clinging to crumbled, dropping her outward. But with her agility, she'd easily scale the falling debris back up.
Which is exactly why I'm coming down with you.
I flung myself after her, meaning to free-fall together.
Whirrr!
I extended my right arm and drew the preheated Shock Pistol, taking aim.
Boom!
At the sight of the muzzle, she flung herself far to the side. She couldn't have gauged the Shock Pistol's power, yet she gave it a wide berth anyway. Experienced, all right.
But my shot blasted away the debris she was standing on. Now the footing beneath us both was gone entirely.
We fell without end.
Swish!
I flipped mid-air as I dropped. Meanwhile I kicked off my shoe and caught the Grakken Boot—still in my mouth—with my foot. With my one remaining right hand, I kept adjusting the Shock Pistol's aim. Missing a left arm, I had to fight like this.
The assassin and I plunged fast. The world's scenery seemed to rise past us like a mirage.
Ruina, do me a solid this time. It's not like I only favor Crucis.
...Okay, I favor Crucis a little.
Bam! Bam!
I fired the Shock Pistol in rapid succession. The assassin dodged left and right in midair, with no footing at all. I had no idea what principle she was using. It boggled the mind.
Even after I'd dragged her into this whirlwind of a situation, her combat prowess never dulled. Just like me, forged by Akies Victima, she adapted instantly to the shifting environment and circumstances.
"Looks like your magazine's empty?"
She murmured it through the rushing wind, scraping her blade against the outer wall to slow her fall, leveling her height with mine.
Actually, I had one shot left.
I pretended to lower the Shock Pistol's muzzle—then raised it again. She'd drawn closer, exactly as I'd hoped. The opening had come.
Ruina was my custom weapon. There was no way she knew its magazine capacity. It was a trick I could only pull because the magazine wasn't actually empty. At our level, counting bullets was child's play.
Deceiving someone with bullet counts is a crude, makeshift ploy. But because the situation was shifting so violently, even that became a fine deception.
The more chaotic things get, the harder it is to fight while accounting for every variable and scenario. In moments like that, people subconsciously start dismissing the basic tricks.
Ruina's muzzle lined up perfectly with the assassin. With a desperate prayer in my chest, I braced to pull the trigger. If this landed, I promised myself I'd clean Ruina before Crucis from now on.
Crack!
But before my index finger could even slip into the trigger guard, it snapped. The assassin had swept her toe past, grazing my hand. It was a martial technique of terrifying precision.
"You're really cute. Did you actually believe my little monologue?"
The assassin wore her composure easily. The one who'd fallen for a basic trick was me.
"Looks like your magazine's empty?"
...Looking back on it now, I'd been so unbelievably stupid to buy those words that it made me furious.
And the ground was rushing up fast.