Chapter 351: The Assassin Lays a Trap
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 351: The Assassin Lays a Trap
Groooar!
Among the human-faced dogs and ghouls, a few drowners emerged.
Were these drowners fresh—newly turned?
If there were bodies of those who had perished in the torrential rain a few days ago, it was entirely possible. For monsters, there wasn't much difference between being an hour old or a week old. While some became more dangerous as they aged, there was no such thing as a "newborn" monster taking baby steps. Therefore, their freshness was irrelevant.
What mattered was their numbers.
"There are many," the Whip Guard noted.
Indeed, there were quite a lot of them. Their sheer numbers were a problem, but the variety was equally an eyesore. Among the horde were demonic beasts that posed a far greater threat than the three types of monsters seen earlier.
Normally, demonic beasts were less dangerous than monsters, but there were exceptions to every rule. The simplest example was a bear demonic beast. Even as a normal animal, a bear was a lethal predator. If such a creature became a demonic beast, it naturally became far more menacing.
Two prime examples of this raised their heads from the crowd. One stood a full head taller than the other.
Grrrrrrrr.
A bear demonic beast, drooling with blood-red eyes, immediately commanded their attention. Seeing it, Rem spoke up.
"Looks like that religious fanatic bastard has a friend here."
"Indeed," Ragna replied.
If Audin had heard this, he would have asked, with his usual benevolent smile, if they wished to stand by his god's side. However, the bear was nothing like Audin. It did not smile.
Roaaar!
Instead, it beat its chest and let out a deafening roar. The vibration reverberated through their entire bodies—a cry designed to instantly freeze prey in fear. It served as the signal.
"They're coming," Dunchabel said.
The monsters surged forward like a wave, beginning their charge. Human-faced dogs kicked off the ground, staining their bellies with mud. Drowners flailed their arms as they rushed forward. Ghouls reached out, showing off their claws and digging into the earth with every stride.
Their numbers easily exceeded a hundred. The ground shook with heavy thuds as the horde surged and the bear demonic beasts moved.
If the people gathered here had been ordinary folk, this would have been more than just a headache—it would have been a death sentence. It was a sight that would naturally strike terror into anyone.
However, the humans gathered here were far from ordinary. If they were prey, their bodies would have frozen at the roar of the bear demonic beast, but this group consisted of entirely unfettered individuals. None of them would freeze at the sight of such a beast.
Whoosh, thud!
A streak of light lanced through the air, burying itself in the skull of one of the charging bear demonic beasts. It was a throwing axe.
The beast's fierce roar abruptly deflated into a wheeze. Its head snapped back before lolling forward. Its powerful neck muscles kept its head from flying off entirely, but the outcome remained the same. With an axe now decorating its skull, the bear lost its momentum and tumbled forward.
A few nearby human-faced dogs were crushed beneath its massive torso.
Yelp!
The human-faced dogs shrieked. That was the end of it. Perhaps only a hydra could survive and keep moving with its head split open—after all, a hydra had multiple heads. Of course, even Encrid had never personally seen a hydra. It was only natural for a bear demonic beast with its skull split vertically to die.
"Ah, that was mine!" Dunchabel complained.
Screeech!
The distinct shriek of ghouls rang out. Ragna and Sachsen severed the ghouls' heads and limbs with indifferent movements, as if they were merely pulling weeds. It was a continuous sequence of concise motions. Minimizing their footwork, they slaughtered every creature that entered their range.
Encrid joined the fray as well. It was said that a single ghoul usually required three trained pikemen to handle, though a well-trained soldier could sometimes kill one alone. Even if a thousand of these things came at him, Encrid could survive.
I just need to hit and run repeatedly.
If he were alone, that would be enough. Even while escorting Krang, he could fight while carrying him on his back. But he wasn't alone; he was with his platoon. There was no need to avoid the confrontation. They swept through them, striking, killing, and slicing them down in an instant.
The black blood of the monsters drenched the rain-soaked ground.
"It's a monster throw," Sachsen said after the commotion settled.
It meant someone had herded the monsters and thrown them in their direction. It was a well-known tactic, called by various names such as monster throwing, pushing, or herding.
"This isn't the end of it," Sachsen added, wiping his sword with a cloth and tossing it to the ground.
At least, that was how he saw it. It took no ordinary skill to deliberately send a horde like this rather than simply ignoring or luring away the monsters heading toward the territory. Whoever was behind this wouldn't give up easily.
"Let them come as much as they want," Dunchabel said, puffing out her chest. Monsters were no threat to them.
Even Odd-Eye kicked the head of a human-faced dog that had rushed at him, drooling. More than five human-faced dogs with crushed skulls lay around the wild horse.
Neighhh.
Odd-Eye shook his head and let out a whinny. His tone seemed to say it was nothing.
"More underhanded tricks will follow," Sachsen continued. His tone was firm. It was a deduction and a prediction—and it was only natural, because he had done this countless times himself. Of course, usually from the attacking side.
Have they gathered?
It couldn't be just one or two guilds moving. The scale was too large for that. Naturally, Naurilia had its own assassin guilds. Had they all banded together to form a coalition? It was a mere guess, but he felt certain of it. A scale of this magnitude, and the audacity to target a nation's royalty... this was not the work of a single guild.
Why did they gather?
Through a few assumptions, he deduced the answer. The client wanted a hound, and the one chosen as the hound decided that rather than taking the fall alone, they would all share the prize and survive together.
Sachsen's deduction was near perfect. In fact, that was exactly what had happened.
*
In Azpen, an assassin guild called the Swamp of Monter dominated most of the underworld, but Naurilia was different. Here, they competed and coexisted. And their numbers were not small.
With the domestic situation being complicated and wars breaking out for years, some nobles had seized the opportunity to form guilds of their own. Others used their killing talents to take jobs from commoners. The guilds that had survived in this ecosystem over a long period totaled twelve.
And now, those who had previously held out in their respective guilds had gathered to form a coalition called the Twelve Daggers.
"We hired dozens of mercenaries and even sent our own people, but they all failed."
"Because their opponent was that crazy company."
Naturally, assassin guilds were highly sensitive to information. They had found out as soon as they were hit. They had gathered in the city closest to the capital, staying in a renovated mansion, maintaining strict defense and security.
"Are we just going to let this slide?"
"We all know what a failed contract means."
Even among the Twelve Daggers, there was bound to be a guild leader with the most influence. The woman who had possessed the largest force before the coalition was formed spoke to the group.
"We must do everything we can."
Giving up meant death. The client was inside the royal palace; failure and surrender would yield the same result. To live, there were only two options: flee, abandoning the foundation they had built, or... succeed.
She, along with the other guild leaders, naturally dreamed of the rewards that would follow. Abandon their foundation and run? Out of the question. If that was the alternative, they would see this through, even if they had to push themselves to the limit. This was a matter of changing the ruler of the country. Naturally, the rewards would be immense.
To ensure they couldn't be discarded after their usefulness was exhausted, they had cast aside their pride and banded tightly together. Their minds were united.
The woman who had become their focal point spoke.
"Our opponents are those who have made a name for themselves on the battlefield. Fighting them head-on is out of the question. Let us fight on our stage, in our way."
"Agreed."
The man who had become her lover was the first to respond.
"Of course."
Another guild leader, who was jealous of her, also nodded.
And so they moved. Since their opponents couldn't possibly know every trick of an assassin, they would fall for it at least once. And that would be the end of it. After all, among their targets, there might be those with experience in bounty hunting, but surely none of them could detect a meticulously laid assassin's trap.
They were all just soldiers who had rolled around on battlefields. Their judgment was only natural.
*
"Save me!"
A voice echoed as they traveled along the highway. A young man, still looking quite youthful, lay sprawled on the ground. He appeared to be caught in a trap. Bleeding profusely, he desperately cried out the moment he spotted Encrid's group.
"Please save me! My father is a landowner with many tenant farmers! I will repay your kindness! I will reward you!"
He spoke through a torrent of tears.
"How did you end up trapped?" Sachsen asked before Encrid could even step forward.
His tone was different from usual. It was similar to when he was Zakrais—that is, when he was imitating Krais. As he asked with a pretense of goodness and kindness, the youth replied.
"Well, I was on my way to sell wheat, but when I woke up..."
He claimed he didn't know what had happened.
"Are we going to help him?" the Whip Guard asked. Sensing a strange unease, the guard wanted to pass him by.
Encrid looked at the trapped youth. He seemed genuinely desperate.
"Please, please. P-please."
He continued, tears and snot streaming down his face. His last word was slurred, as if he had bitten his tongue.
"It's a trap. It looks like they've set up traps around him," Sachsen said. His gaze swept over the area surrounding the youth. The scent of pitfall traps and poison subtly tickled his nose.
"Will he die if we leave him?"
"He will. That's exactly why they captured him and set up this trap."
It was a trap they could easily ignore and bypass, but that was precisely what the enemy was counting on.
"If we ignore him, they will make it look like we killed him."
"A double trap, then?" Encrid asked.
Sachsen explained the ensuing situation as concisely as possible. It was a prediction of what would happen in the city they would reach for supplies and rest. It was a trap of "unavoidable choices." If they tried to save him, they had to bypass the traps. If they ignored him, they would be dragged into troublesome matters in the next city they visited.
"The ones who killed my son are right there!"
Whether they used a good actor, hostages, blackmail, or poison, they would force the landowner to say those words to the group.
They want to tie our hands in the city.
Once they panicked, it would be over. A sudden stab in the back with a dagger. They must have prepared a team for that as well.
How underhanded, Sachsen thought, while Encrid made up his mind.
"Dunchabel."
"Yeah?"
"Go pick him up."
As seen in previous battles, Dunchabel's movements were incredibly swift and agile. With her speed, she could easily ignore the traps and just retrieve the man.
"Okay."
She didn't ask why. If Encrid ordered it, she did it. That was Dunchabel's thought process.
Normally, this trap was designed to detonate various things laid on the ground when someone approached to save the victim. However, Dunchabel rendered it all useless by taking a running start and leaping.
Bam!
The muddy ground exploded where Dunchabel had forcefully stepped. Soaring through the air, Dunchabel reached the location of the trap and landed with a thud. Having cleared the traps with a long jump, Dunchabel pried the trap open with sheer strength.
The iron trap that had been clamping down on his ankle shattered with a loud crack. The man, still covered in tears and snot, was scooped up into Dunchabel's arms. Carrying the landowner's son in a bridal carry, Dunchabel took a few steps back to secure enough space for a running start, then lightly leaped, clearing the entire trap zone.
It was a feat made possible by the incredible thigh strength of a beastman.
"Aaaahhh!"
Only the scream of the trapped man echoed in the air. The landowner's son had now joined their group. After examining the hostage's wound, Encrid applied powdered medicine to stop the bleeding and wrapped it in bandages.
"Th-thank you."
He was an ordinary person—a civilian. A hostage who had absolutely nothing to do with the assassins. Encrid's intuition told him this was a fact. Sachsen reached a similar conclusion.
If they had left him, they would have been branded as murderers who killed the son of an influential figure. If they saved him, they would have had to dismantle the traps—it was a double-edged snare. Yet, all those traps were bypassed thanks to the beastman's strength and Sachsen's experience.
Even after that, the assassination attempts did not stop.
"Save us!"
It was a merchant caravan. They approached, bleeding from various wounds, claiming they were being chased by monsters. No, they were running toward them. Encrid furrowed his brow as he watched them run.
Were they really merchants?
Hiding oneself and concealing hostility was the basic rule of an assassin. And that was exactly what they were doing. He had doubts, but no certainty. Behind them, three or four ghouls could be seen. That was evidence that lent weight to their words.
Even so, something clicked in his mind. It was a warning from his intuition.
Their injuries...
Not a single one of them had an injured leg. Furthermore, the breathing of those supposedly fleeing in terror was perfectly steady. All of this was organized within the realm of intuition.
"They're enemies."
Sachsen nodded, confirming the conclusion Encrid had reached.
As if that weren't enough, Encrid threw a dagger using the Flicking Sword Style he had learned from Sachsen. The dagger, which flew as if aiming for the throat before suddenly dropping downward, forced the pot-bellied merchant who had been crying for help to throw himself to the side.
If he hadn't dodged, he would have ended up with nothing more than a nice dagger ornament in his thigh, but he had dodged. Moreover, such agile movement from a body like that clearly showed signs of training.
"You heartless bastard," the pot-bellied assassin spat.
Not exactly something I should be hearing from an assassin, Encrid thought as he launched a preemptive verbal strike.
"Are you pregnant?"
The assassin's brow furrowed, his masculinity insulted. Although he had trained for years to always maintain his composure, the unexpected remark caused a momentary surge of irritation. He failed to hide it. His overall reaction became slightly slower than usual.
And that was all it took. By the time the pot-bellied assassin sensed the presence of the silently flying dagger, it was already too late.
Thud.
As the Silent Knife embedded itself in the nape of his neck, the man clutched his throat. Crimson blood poured out between his gripping fingers.