086 - Collecting the Overdue Debt (7)
Laila secretly tailed Tabar as he headed back to the Kosalin territory.
He seemed dejected after receiving an order tantamount to demotion from Viscount Servio, traveling quietly on his own.
Riding her horse along the main road, Laila busily pondered where to ambush him.
Then one day.
Perhaps to shake off the fatigue accumulated from the long journey, he began downing drinks at a tavern.
He even slipped a silver coin to a barmaid, sat her down beside him, and started rambling on with his woes.
The barmaid nodded along appropriately, encouraging him to drink even more.
Finally, Tabar—drunk to the point he could barely stand—rubbed his forehead and staggered to his feet.
Laila followed at a distance, her hood pulled low over her face.
Heading to an inn? Not this way? He must be out of his mind from the booze.
Ambushing him inside the city would be difficult.
Unless she could kill him in a single blow, Tabar was no easy mark.
The metallic clang would surely ring out loudly, drawing the guards inevitably.
That was why she hadn't found a suitable opportunity until now.
Today?
It seemed her turn had finally come to claim the long-awaited reward.
Near the public cemetery, with hardly a soul around, and her target drunk and unsteady on his feet.
She could finish her revenge cleanly.
Laila quietly fiddled with the dagger hidden in her bosom.
She slowly approached Tabar, who stood by a graveside with his pants down, relieving himself.
The black-coated dagger closed in silently on his back. At that moment, a heavy voice bored into Laila's ear.
"You stupid bitch."
Splash!
Tabar spun around, swinging his arm, and hurled a fistful of liquid straight at Laila's eyes.
"Gasp!"
Startled, Laila arched her back and barely dodged. Wary of a follow-up attack, she swiftly retreated several steps.
But Tabar didn't pursue her, instead acting with leisurely confidence. He held up his hand to show her a small pouch made from animal intestines.
Laila gritted her teeth.
She had timed her attack after hearing the sound of urine hitting the ground.
Excretion inevitably dulled one's reactions.
But the splashing sound had been Tabar's ruse.
It meant he had anticipated her ambush all along—and his drunken stupor was nothing but an act.
"You still can't see the big picture. Cave got ambushed. But not me. So who? Self-inflicted? If it was Cave, he'd have picked a spot easier to move around in afterward. The side's too risky and messy for self-harm."
Laila readjusted her grip on both daggers and spoke.
"Do you remember Jena?"
"Jena? Jena, Jena, Jena... Ah! Now I remember. The target for the test to pull you into the execution squad. Yeah, I remember. Heh heh."
"I'll have revenge for that day."
"Keh keh, go right ahead. Do whatever you like."
Tabar drew three forearm-length iron rods from his bosom and connected them one by one.
Click! Click!
Once assembled, a crossguard sprang out just above the handle. It was an iron club roughly the length of a longsword.
Laila realized her calculations had gone awry once more. She had expected a mere dagger from his bosom, but he had produced something akin to a longsword.
It wasn't just a change in weapon—the entire style of combat it demanded was different.
"You think too much."
As Laila hesitated for a moment, Tabar charged first.
The ambiguous weapon—sword or bludgeon?—came crashing down toward her head.
Laila hurriedly steadied her mind.
Don't dwell on the failed ambush! His weapon's a 1.5-meter one-hander. Longer reach than my daggers. I have to close the distance!
She twisted her upper body to evade the falling club, then stepped forward instead.
The gap between them shrank in an instant.
Laila reversed her grip on the dagger and swung her arm.
Slash! Thud!
Tabar raised his forearm to block before her swing could fully extend.
When the dagger from her other side flew in, he reversed his grip on the iron club and blocked with his forearm again.
Clang!
The moment the dagger bounced away, Tabar's gleaming forehead shot forward like lightning.
Laila yanked her head back in a hurry, but with her arm caught, she couldn't retreat far enough.
Crack!
Her vision went dark for a moment, stars exploding before her eyes.
Fortunately, the impact point had glanced off just barely, so the damage wasn't severe.
Laila snapped her knee up toward Tabar's jaw.
He released her arm without hesitation and opened the distance.
Then he leveled his weapon at her.
"Keh keh, bet that smashed your nasal bone. Can you even breathe right?"
"Shut up."
Laila tried to close in again, but Tabar, sensing it, swung his club to keep her at bay.
She circled him rapidly, seeking an opening, but surprisingly, his fundamentals were rock-solid.
Something about it feels familiar...
Only then did Laila realize.
It resembled the unyielding solidity she'd felt clashing swords with Calix underground.
A noble's one-handed swordsmanship, perfectly balanced between offense and defense.
It was unexpected.
"Were you a knight?"
"Hmm? You've gotten sharper. But it just gives me one more reason to kill you. When you get to the afterlife, keep your mouth shut about other people's pasts."
Like casting off a mask, Tabar assumed a proper knight's stance.
From that point on, Laila could barely keep her wits about her.
Ugh!
She reflected on how, when facing Calix, she had underestimated the swordsmanship used by nobles.
Unlike Calix's still-immature form, Tabar's near-perfected technique was on another level entirely.
The flashy moves she'd dismissed as noble bluster and showmanship were actually feints designed to obscure the true target.
The motions she'd thought pointlessly merciful and gentlemanly—favoring limbs over vital points—were in fact meticulously chained attacks to methodically pressure the opponent.
It wasn't merely the advantage of channeling mana into a weapon.
It was the culmination of history, refined generation after generation by elite noble swordsmen who infused it with their essence.
Clang! Clang!
The razor-sharp assaults came endlessly, without respite.
The only reason she held out was her extraordinary flexibility.
Laila evaded attacks with bizarre, unimaginable postures her opponent could never anticipate.
"You've learned some strange body techniques. But tricks like that won't last long. Just like now."
Thud!
Before Tabar finished speaking, a powerful front kick slammed into Laila's abdomen.
"Cough!"
Spewing bile, she flew backward, tumbling end over end several times before barely scrambling to her feet.
Suddenly, Calix's face flashed in her mind—the way he'd asked worriedly if it really had to be now.
Sorry, but revenge isn't my only purpose anymore. If I leave everything to you, I'll have nothing to offer. I don't want to be dead weight. I want to be your strength.
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and smiled faintly.
Trials forge strength in a person.
Right now, Tabar was the tallest mountain she could climb without dying.
A faint light began to glimmer in Laila's eyes—the hallmark of class 5, known as awakened eyes.
"Hah! Am I seeing things? A gutter rat who just scraped into class 4 not long ago, and now awakened eyes already? The world's gone mad."
As Tabar finished speaking, a faint light kindled in his eyes as well.
Barely perceptible in broad daylight, but in the dim night, it gleamed eerily.
From that moment, their fierce clash began to transcend human limits.
The pointed tip of the iron club surged toward Laila, met by her daggers.
Boom!
The weapon tips collided precisely.
Tabar's assault didn't end there.
Laila thrust her twin daggers in rapid succession.
Clang! Clang clang!
It looked for all the world like she was casually parrying a shower of stabbing attacks.
But in truth, Laila bit her lip in growing anxiety.
Damn it! Not a single gap to close in!
Without the ability to fire solidified mana projectiles from beyond range, control of distance was paramount in combat.
Either keep outside the opponent's maximum effective range to land distant strikes, or slip inside to impose your own optimal range.
That was the key to victory.
Regrettably, Laila was currently trapped in Tabar's range, merely stalling for time.
No human is flawless.
Eventually, she would slip up.
And that would be the end. All this endurance will just lead to withering away slowly.
She needed a breakthrough.
Laila swung her dagger in a wide, forceful arc.
Then, without resisting Tabar's counterforce, she launched herself into the air.
Mid-leap, she spun a full rotation before landing gracefully.
Like a cat, she crouched low to absorb the impact, making scarcely a sound.
"Thinking of running?"
"Not in the slightest."
If she let Tabar escape today, word of her attack would spread.
The next chance might never come.
No—revenge hardly mattered now.
What she truly feared was squandering the precious opportunity he'd unwittingly created, all because of some foolish stubbornness.
"You die today."
"Keh keh, that's scary. Want me to turn up the heat?"
Laila glared at Tabar wordlessly.
She carefully reviewed her memories of sparring with Calix, comparing their movements and gradually grasping the essence of the sword path.
But her ploy to buy time became the trigger for an unwelcome truth.
"Jena, was it? Now it's coming back to me. You grabbed her severed head and bawled pathetically."
Laila forcibly soothed her churning heart.
It's a cheap trick to rile me up. Stay calm, Laila!
"But the truth is, she was the final piece to turn you into a full executioner."
Unable to endure it any longer, Laila shot back sharply.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Kekel, got your interest now, huh? Yeah, you were a once-in-a-decade talent—missing just one thing. At least as an executioner."
"I don't want to hear any more. Shut your mouth."
Sensing unease on instinct, Laila raised her daggers.
But Tabar's mouth didn't stop.
"That bottomless affection for your family-like comrades. You had to cut it out to complete the puzzle. Went all the way with a honey trap to make Jena elope... tsk. But you couldn't take that final step."
"Shut up!"
Laila exploded forward at blinding speed.
Tabar thrust out his iron club to block her.
In that instant, she split her legs wide in a straight line.
Her upper body seemed to vanish in a blink.
His weapon sliced through empty air.
Whoosh—Grab!
Laila seized his outstretched arm and swung her elbow as she rose.
Aimed at his jaw, it was blocked by his hand.
Thud!
Her knee toward his groin was stopped by his leg.
With her dagger blade downward, it plunged toward his thigh.
Forced to pull his foot back, now a kick flew at his opposite knee.
Hands, feet, knees, elbows—Laila's attacks poured down like a torrent.
Tabar was no slouch either.
His specialty was the one-handed sword, but his years as an executioner were far from brief.
There was no reason for him to yield to her in ultra-close quarters.