Chapter 178
Chapter 178
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 178
Chapter Title: Echoes of the Heart
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Once you reach a certain level in aura, you can hear your heartbeat.
Of course, even an ordinary person can hear their own heartbeat if they plug their ears and focus just a little.
But for aura users, you can hear it anytime you want, even without plugging your ears.
In other words, it becomes a reliable benchmark for gauging your body's condition more precisely.
That's why, in a moment like this.
It starts pitch black, like your eyes are covered, and gradually, even the footsteps outside vanish.
Even if you try to confirm the warmth on your back is really Iyell, in this darkness that swallows all sound, eventually, the only thing you'll hear is your own heartbeat.
'Shut up.'
The rapid thumping—fueled by tension and pre-battle excitement—grates on his nerves. It's too loud.
Even if this heartbeat stops, he still won't hear the enemy's footsteps.
'At least it'd be better than now.'
As Shahaad furrowed his brow.
With no sound at all, but a premonition of something flying toward his forehead, he thrust out his hand.
"Hah."
Something thudded dully against Shahaad's sword. The strong recoil in his grip and the sensation upon impact suggested it wasn't a sword or spear.
'An arrow... no, a crossbow bolt.'
And at the same time, movement from behind his back.
Iyell performing a motion like swatting something away.
That confirmed it.
The enemy could see Shahaad and Iyell.
But for some reason, they weren't approaching within a certain range, and not many had come.
'It must be related to this debuff covering us now.'
This mansion had magical defenses in place.
For them to contact the guards so stealthily, blocking vision and hearing so perfectly?
A debuff that powerful had to come with its own risks.
"Focus."
It wouldn't reach Iyell, but Shahaad repeated it to himself.
He'd never even killed a slime in practice yet, but this was real combat.
'I have to kill them.'
But how?
Right now, back-to-back with Iyell, he could at least guess directions.
But what if they separated? In this darkness where floor and sky are invisible, how do you distinguish front from back or sides? How much force do you put into each step?
If he were stronger, maybe. But of all times, now.
Who sent them was obvious.
'Seria!'
Shahaad ground his teeth. Knowing that, the enemies weren't charging in close.
"This time, the heart."
Instead, they just launched these silent attacks from afar.
For Shahaad, who had only just stepped into aura, blocking twice under these conditions was sheer luck.
His heart pounded like it would burst from intense focus, ears ringing.
Sweat beaded on his lashes and dripped.
Iyell was probably strong enough to thrash around on her own as his bodyguard, but she stayed, guarding his back.
In this situation, reaching back with one hand to push Iyell or write on her body was too risky.
The enemies weren't in the dark.
As if telling her to go, Shahaad nudged Iyell lightly with his back, and she nudged back slowly in kind.
"You dare defy my orders?"
If he survived, he'd dock her pay.
Shahaad twisted his lips into a smile. Just two crossbow bolts flying at them.
But perhaps because he overconcentrated to swat them down—faster than regular arrows—in the unseen, unheard chaos.
His mental strength was literally being whittled away.
Sweat soaked his back. It felt almost like they just wanted to dry him out and kill him.
'Ten minutes?'
Iyell was wrong this time.
These weren't ordinary assassins.
If they were regular assassins striking on a moonless night, blocking just sight... yeah, maybe holding out ten minutes would've done it.
'Not some assassin Seria hired.'
This was on a whole different level from typical assassinations.
Like they were squeezing out every drop of fear.
"...The Holy Church."
The moment Shahaad opened his mouth to mutter, he sensed it and swung his sword.
"Urk...."
A bit late this time—the bolt grazed his arm and passed.
But now he knew for sure. Seria had sent the Holy Church to kill him, and they were doing this to wring out maximum terror, pain, and fear.
'To dare pull this off against imperial blood.'
Iyell's back against his felt ragged.
Probably panting hard.
And their touching bodies were damp.
'Injured.'
Maybe Iyell, stronger than Shahaad, had swatted more bolts aimed at him or taken some with her body.
His teeth ground audibly.
"Urk!"
Finally, one bolt he couldn't block pierced his shoulder.
He yanked it out with his other hand and summoned holy power.
Regeneration's price was pain.
Even as his flesh forcibly knit together, teeth chattering from the agony, Shahaad grinned with fierce eyes.
Some might despair in a situation like this.
With your two biggest senses—sight and hearing—sealed, attacks coming from who-knows-where.
'But.'
Shahaad had thrashed through far deeper despair until now.
Anger over despair.
'I need the power to kill those bastards.'
He should've gotten stronger. He'd tried, but not like there was no tomorrow.
No matter if Seria found out his abilities, he should've done whatever it took. Called in priests to heal his wrecked body from excessive training and kept swinging the sword.
Would it have been different?
"If I survive this."
Even if the Innocents abandon me. Even if they just use me and toss me aside.
"The Holy Church—you won't set foot on this land."
So kill me while you can.
Or I'll stand before you as an even greater foe.
Ten minutes had passed long ago.
No reinforcements came.
Shahaad straightened his sword, guarding the line from forehead to throat to heart, and took one step forward.
Just standing still meant no counterattack. He'd dry up and die eventually.
Each step felt like the floor might give way. Still, he had to move.
As he planted another step with that thought.
「You're late.」
A grating metallic sound. Less a human voice, more like scraping and banging iron crudely pieced together to mimic speech—it rang out, and suddenly his vision cleared.
What he saw was a crimson feast of dark red light spread across the mansion floor, where no red carpet had been.
A man with white hair and a metal mask covering from his nose down approached Shahaad, dripping red blood from both hands. He placed one hand over his chest and bowed at the waist in greeting.
「Your shield, sent by the Innocents.」
The sound of crudely hammered scrap iron.
Less speech, more a patchwork of clanging noises assaulting the ears.
"Hah."
Seeing that, Iyell—pale from blood loss—yanked the bolt from her waist and approached.
"He's stronger than me."
At Iyell's whisper in his ear, Shahaad spoke lowly.
"My shield?"
「All explanations are in here.」
Kneeling one knee on the blood-soaked floor, he pulled a parchment from his bosom. Shahaad extended his bloodied hand.
* * *
"So, everything's going smoothly?"
[Who do you think I am, Boss? It's Paiyan.]
"I know. Still, surprising they didn't detect you even with the mist transformation."
As I lounged on the sofa clutching the Siren, a chuckling voice came from the other end.
[That's the nature of places like that, Boss. They try hard to filter incoming intruders from outside, but inside, they're kinda lax.]
"Even so, it's the Royal Academy."
Gazing out the window lying down, I saw seagulls flying and massive clouds blanketing the sky.
This place was the picture of peace.
[They only secure the main academy building thoroughly. No way they're blanketing the outer warehouses with alarm spells. Sure, they probably did at first, but you know how people are, Boss.]
Put it off once or twice, and you stop checking altogether. Eventually, it's an unused warehouse piled with nothing but emergency firewood—no one's wasting magic stones on alarm spells there.
"Makes sense. But doesn't mist transformation give off that night demon tribe-specific mana signature?"
[We're not at war—who's putting detection like that even in the capital's academy?]
I nodded at her words. Fair point—military bases, maybe, but that kind of spell was finicky anyway.
"So, how's progress?"
[Pretty good. Belvert underestimated me, so no thorough tail-cutting or document fudging. I'll have some fun news for you soon.]
Gazing at the horizon and the rainbow from the nearby whirlpool, I spoke.
"Wrap this up, and take a vacation. Come hang out where I am."
Money was no issue. Gates made it quick—a carriage would take half a year from the capital, but a gate got you to the coastal city in half a day.
'Such great scenery's meant to be shared.'
Paiyan had suffered plenty since her newbie maze days, scamming beginner adventurers.
She wouldn't admit it all to save pride, but as a night demon half-breed—not even full ain—she hadn't had it easy.
Would she have joined hands with me, the guy who says she’d never betray, otherwise?
Now that Paiyan was mine, her happiness mattered.
Plus, our debuff sign main party member I'd meet someday was a night demon too.
'They'd get along.'
Wouldn't be till after linking to the demon realm, though.
'Night demon tribe—awakens as a succubus, enchanting and tormenting foes.'
While everyone else praised her pheromones and she dominated dreams, only Kain resisted with unbreakable will—immune to pheromones and illusions.
Intrigued, she left her demon legion to chase him.
Wide-area mind control and confusion. Hallucinations plus charm and taunt, even physical debuffs via demonic energy.
Pale pink skin, hair blending light purple and sky blue. Body scent like mint and cotton candy mixed.
'Lilith.'
Predictably on-the-nose name.
But it fit, I thou—wait.
A strange sense of déjà vu made me fiddle with the Siren.
Nah, no way.
"Paiyan, your mist transformation—vampire bloodline side?"
[Who knows? Night demons are mental-type demons, so vampire's possible... but I don't remember my parents, so not sure.]
Fair—the mist awakened from that maze explosion. Paiyan scamming newbies in the maze to becoming one of the demon realm's twelve legion commanders? Stretch.
Same night demon lineage, both female—similarities expected.
Night demons inherit mental traits; Paiyan had Charm. Our debuff sign had succubus racial trait. Close enough.
I shrugged and spoke again.
"Anyway, come visit when you're done."
[Sounds good. I'll call again, Boss.]
We could swim, eat watermelon. Summer events like this were a must in subculture or games—hits the spot.
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