087 - Collecting the Overdue Debt (8)

Meanwhile, as Laila was locked in a fierce brawl, Calix was inspecting the royal vault.

"Will Laila be okay?"

"What?"

"Honestly, she's no match for Tabar."

"True."

"Then why'd you send her alone?"

"He's her prey. She needs to settle that pent-up grudge, or she'll keep throwing herself into danger."

Krout nodded.

"Fair point. That solo raid on the Sasquatch lair, the Ancient Worm... she does treat her life too lightly."

"It's the guilt of surviving alone."

"Still, letting her die like this would be a waste, wouldn't it?"

"Heh! You two are getting along now? You used to just snarl at each other."

"I just think she's finally useful."

"Hm?"

"Picked one?"

"Ah... maybe."

What Calix had picked up was a leather armor shimmering with a blue hue.

Krout said with a sour expression.

"Doesn't look very practical. You really going with that?"

"Yeah."

"How about this instead?"

"It's a fine piece, but I'll stick with this one."

"Ugh..."

It was the moment Calix's next ruin to challenge was decided.

Laila forced her eyes wide open. Her swollen left eyelid kept blurring her vision.

As the fight dragged on, she'd made several fatal mistakes.

But Tabar hadn't delivered the killing blow.

He'd pull back after leaving just enough wounds to keep her from dying immediately.

An executioner was ultimately a human hunter.

The virtue was to finish cleanly when the chance arose.

Toying around like a cat with a mouse was taboo.

Of course, it was a rule born from most fights being between class 3s without mana breathing methods, where skill gaps weren't huge.

But she hadn't expected the execution squad commander to flaunt it so openly.

Her whole body throbbed.

Thanks to her clothes covering her skin, the bruises—deep purple everywhere—were hidden.

Tabar approached, playfully spinning his iron mace.

"How's it feel? Sense the gap between us now?"

Laila clamped her mouth shut and charged again.

But it was no different from before.

She couldn't get within three steps of Tabar.

She tried forcing her way in,

but thwack! Thud! Thud! A flurry of blows sent her staggering five steps back instead.

"This is getting boring. It's over, Laila."

Tabar slowly aimed his iron mace at her.

For the first time, the man who'd fought purely defensively lunged forward.

Clang!

Laila blocked the iron mace with the flat of her dagger.

But she couldn't hold long—her arm flew back.

Stab! Stab!

With her upper body wide open, Tabar's weapon mercilessly pierced her.

It had no edge, but the tip was sharp.

Both shoulders run through, Laila's arms went limp.

Clink!

Her dagger hit the floor, and the mace's sharp tip pricked her throat.

Blood from the wound trickled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down her pale skin.

"That look in your eyes. I don't like it."

"Now I get it. You're a disgraced dark knight, aren't you?"

Tabar's eyebrows twitched violently.

"One-handed swordplay specialized for duels, a past you want to hide, enjoying tormenting foes. A loser cast out from the knights' world."

"How dare you!"

His forehead burning red, Tabar gripped harder.

More blood flowed from the mace's tip.

"You sure know how to run your mouth in a situation like this."

"You think you've won?"

"You haven't forgotten half a blade's at your throat, have you?"

"I didn't know why he sent me alone. Felt a bit hurt, even."

"What nonsense!"

"But now I think I do. He probably knew I'd reabsorbed that larva. And that it would lend me its power."

Unable to hold back, Tabar shoved the mace in.

But it wouldn't budge, as if blocked by an invisible wall.

"What...!"

Laila grabbed the mace piercing her throat with both hands.

And slowly pulled it out.

Tabar grunted, trying to resist, but it was futile.

He outweighed her by double, yet he was dragged back, leaving a long skid mark on the ground.

"This is called Stone Skin. And this..."

Laila crumpled Tabar's iron mace barehanded and tossed it aside.

Clink!

"...is Earth Power."

"How in the...?"

"If your weapon had an edge, I'd have awakened it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sooner. Took a while without the blood flow."

As she spoke, Laila's throat was now covered in red runes.

The blood from her wound had flowed across her body, tracing the words of ancient earth shamans.

Laila reached out, and the ground surged up. She picked up her dagger from atop it.

"This is Rock Spike."

"You've awakened some petty spells, but that changes nothing!"

"Really? Saying that while glancing at escape routes kinda kills the persuasion."

"Tch!"

Tabar spun and bolted.

Fighting a same-class opponent without a weapon was suicide.

But before he took a few steps, one foot sank deep.

Crunch—thud!

His ankle buckled, and he rolled spectacularly, groaning as he rose.

On one knee, he drew a dagger from his bosom, bristling like a frightened hedgehog.

"S-stay back!"

"Kneel and apologize to Jeina and Anne."

"What?"

"Apologize to the mother and daughter you killed."

"Why should I..."

Clang! Thwack!

In that instant, Laila's swinging kick struck Tabar's head like a soccer ball.

He flailed his dagger wildly, but it couldn't even scratch her stone skin-enhanced flesh.

Laila placed her foot on the fallen Tabar's head.

"Apologize."

"Urk..."

He writhed under the crushing pain.

Strangely, he couldn't budge Laila's foot, light as she was.

It felt like a massive iron weight.

"Apologize. Atone. Repent. Regret. Should I grind you flat?"

"S-sorry."

"No sincerity."

Grind—

At the horrifying sound of his skull shifting, Tabar wailed like a child.

"I-I'm sorry! I'm the one who deserves to die. Waah!"

"Jeina and Anne."

"Lady Jeina! Lady Anne! I'm truly sorry! Please spare me!"

Laila looked up at the pitch-black sky.

Countless stars twinkled.

"Sorry, big sis. All I know is the blade, so I can't express my feelings any other way. You probably won't like it, but forgive me."

"W-wait..."

Crunch!

She felt her leather boot growing slick.

"I could never repay what you gave me in a lifetime, but now I've got another debt. Being his strength is my happiness. Selfish, I know... but you'd understand, right, sis?"

Laila started trudging away.

Her body shivered faintly for some reason.

A certain face flashed in her mind.

Suddenly, she wanted to see him.

Let's go... to Szczecin territory.

Her steps quickened bit by bit.

Calix pulled out his notepad and flipped it open.

1. Servio Viscount's gang (X)

2. First Prince Gail Krakuf (X)

3. Lander Central Army Commander

4. Rublin (X)

"Just one left now."

But the final target was no pushover.

Lander Central Army Commander.

Father of Rublin Lander and ruler of a wealthy domain maintaining three full knight orders.

Moreover, his family was a famed martial house with excellent mana ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠breathing methods.

They always ranked in the top five for producing Royal Knights.

Simply building power for revenge on such a giant would take at least a decade.

"Sowing discord is best for times like this."

Fortunately, the timing was perfect.

Rumors swirled that Count Lander and Viscount Servio had a heated argument.

Plus, the recent secret elimination of Tabar.

Viscount Servio was probably furious, hunting the culprit.

A little effort could easily redirect that rage toward Count Lander.

But Calix felt the need for a temporary truce with Viscount Servio this time.

With such draining fights ongoing, he couldn't scout the next ruin.

"Balance them perfectly for now. While they bicker in factions, we tech up fast."

"Tech?"

"Something like that."

Viscount Servio headed to a secretive salon in the commercial district.

"Hiding in a place like this... vulgar scum."

Passing a corridor lined with luxurious carpets, he entered a spacious room without windows. Calix sat sipping tea, waiting.

"You've arrived."

Calix greeted without rising or even turning his head.

The viscount's eyebrow twitched at the sight.

Insolent brat.

He cursed inwardly but couldn't upend the table.

Not with his lingering greed for the silver ingots.

Calix and Viscount Servio sat at opposite ends of a large table big enough for twenty.

Their distant seating laid bare how shallow their trust was.

Calix set down his teacup and spoke first.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation. I asked you here today for reconciliation."

"Reconciliation?"

"That's how I see it. I was just struggling to survive, but somehow we've ended up at each other's throats."

"Hmph! Hilarious. So stealing my silver was 'somehow' too?"

"You used Gerard Millers to saddle Szczecin with massive debt."

"As if I'm demanding repayment on a loan I never made."

"I had no choice to protect my domain."

"Enough. We'll just go in circles."

Viscount Servio's eyes sharpened as he spoke firmly.

"The silver ingots. Where are they? Return them, and I'll call off the feud, no problem."

"Why not ask Sir Gerard?"

"Keep dodging, and there's no point talking."

He shoved his chair back ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠roughly and stood.