Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Returning the Gift
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"All set."
Emperor Darcor stared into the mirror as he pulled his black mask down tight.
"Where are you headed this time, Your Majesty?"
Edel, who had been holding the window open, asked with eyes full of worry.
"To return what I received."
"Pardon? Return it?"
"It's only polite to return a gift once you've received one."
Darcor's lips curled into a sinister grin beneath the mask.
"Please be careful. I beg you."
"I'll try."
Whoosh.
Darcor vaulted over the windowsill and vanished into the darkness.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Keep rolling! I'm gonna clean you all out tonight!"
"Damn it... lost again!"
In a dingy gambling den tucked away in the capital's labyrinthine back alleys,
rough-looking men guzzled booze amid thick clouds of cigarette smoke, slamming dice onto the tables.
It might look like your average dive from the outside,
but deep underground, a different atmosphere prevailed.
The secret meeting room of the Ether Guild.
"Contact's been cut off?!"
A heavy silence shattered with a bellowed shout.
Bam!
Guild Master Carhedin's face twisted in fury from his seat at the head of the table.
"Yes. No word from any of the crow assassins we sent to the palace. Not even a body or a trace has turned up."
The reporting executive's voice trembled faintly.
The guild's elite assassins had vanished.
In a single night.
"That doesn't make any sense! Those were our guild's top killers."
"But it's certain the Royal Guard isn't involved. I checked with our man there, and they say nothing happened that night."
"Who the hell is it? Which bastard's screwing with us?!"
Carhedin shot to his feet, snarling.
The emperor was supposed to be an incompetent tyrant.
A puppet lost in booze and women, neglecting state affairs and hiding under his escort knight's skirts.
'Was our intel wrong? Does the emperor have some hidden force we don't know about?'
Anxiety washed over him.
His instincts, honed from decades in the shadows, were screaming.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
"Activate every emergency channel right now. And tighten security around—"
Carhedin hadn't even finished speaking.
The meeting room ceiling shook as if an earthquake had hit.
Rumble rumble boom!
At the gambling den's entrance,
two burly bouncers stood with arms crossed, blocking the way.
Step. Step.
A man approached through the pouring rain in the back alley.
Suspicious figure in a deep black hood.
"Hey, buddy. This ain't a place for just anyone."
"Wrong door. No invite, no entry."
The bouncer shoved the man's chest roughly.
"Invite, huh? You mean this?"
"What?"
"You said you need an invite to get in."
Darcor pulled something from his pocket.
Silver glinted under the streetlamp.
"This the one?"
It was a dagger engraved with the Ether Guild's emblem.
"Th-that's...?"
The bouncers' eyes widened in shock the moment they recognized it.
Thud!
Darcor's hand struck like lightning.
One massive bouncer crumpled to the ground without even a scream.
"Why the surprise? You're embarrassing me."
"You bastard!"
Smack.
The remaining bouncer charged with a swinging fist,
but Darcor's kick was faster.
Boom!
The gambling den's sturdy door exploded into splinters.
"Closed for business tonight."
Darcor strolled in leisurely through the cloud of dust.
"Go home. Trash pickup starts now."
In the corridor leading down the secret passage to the basement,
dozens of assassins poured out at the commotion, packing the narrow hallway.
"Intruder! Stop him!"
"Rip him apart!"
Poisoned daggers, hefty axes, coiling chains.
Weapons made for murder filled the cramped space and flew at him.
'Tight fit.'
But Darcor's lips curved upward.
For assassins, a narrow corridor was hell.
"Perfect."
No room to leverage their numbers; they'd just get in each other's way.
The worst battlefield imaginable.
Whoosh!
Darcor tilted his head slightly,
and a dagger grazed his cheek before burying deep in the shoulder of the assassin behind him.
"Gah!"
Then he snapped the arm of the next charging foe.
Crack!
"Aaaargh!"
The scream was just the starting gun.
Slash. Slash.
Every swing of his blade painted the walls with dark red blood.
"Let's make this cozy. Hoo!"
Darcor snuffed out the corridor lights.
Darkness descended in an instant.
"Wh-where is he? I can't see!"
"Urk... my leg!"
Darkness was always the assassins' friend.
Not tonight.
Friendship's relative.
Darcor was closer.
In the pitch black where you couldn't see an inch ahead,
Darcor made no sound—no footsteps, no breath.
He simply slipped behind them like a shadow.
Snapped necks. Stabbed vitals. Shattered joints.
Crack. Stab. Crunch.
Only screams and breaking bones echoed down the hall.
"Huff, huff. M-monster..."
The last assassin backed into the wall.
Nowhere left to run.
Two eerie eyes gleamed at him from the dark.
"Why so shocked? You're embarrassing me."
Darcor's palm slowly covered the assassin's vision.
"Be good in your next life."
Snap.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ The secret meeting room.
The screams from outside cut off abruptly.
Silence.
Guild Master Carhedin drew his sword with trembling hands.
He was a champion of the Imperial Swordsmanship Tournament and a legend who had assassinated countless VIPs.
But the killing intent beyond the door was something entirely new.
'He's coming.'
Carhedin swallowed dryly and gripped his hilt tight.
All his senses locked on the door.
The moment it opened, he'd sever the intruder's neck in one stroke.
Boom!
But reality shattered his plan spectacularly.
It wasn't the door.
"Gah!"
The ceiling tore open like paper and collapsed.
Debris rained down amid choking dust clouds.
Carhedin shielded his face with his arm and staggered back.
As the dust slowly cleared, an absurd sight emerged.
A single intact sofa amid the rubble.
A man lounged atop it, legs casually crossed.
As comfortable as if it were his own bedroom.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Carhedin aimed his sword and roared.
The man tugged his black mask down to his chin.
The revealed face.
One he never could have imagined.
"Who do you think?"
A faint smile played on Darcor's lips.
"You don't recognize me? I'm the guy you sent your people to kill yesterday."
"N-no way... the Emperor?!"
Carhedin's eyes bulged.
Emperor Darcor.
The incompetent, lazy tyrant had infiltrated here alone?
This was a nightmare. It couldn't be real.
"Hey. Missed me?"
"Die!"
Carhedin lost his reason and lunged.
Three poisoned daggers flew from his sleeve at once.
Point-blank, no escape.
But to Darcor, they moved at a yawn-inducing crawl.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
The daggers sliced empty air and embedded in the sofa back.
Before Carhedin could react, Darcor's form flickered like mist.
"Too slow."
He seized Carhedin's throat.
And slammed him against the wall, lifting him clean off the ground.
Thud!
"Gurk!"
"Let's keep it short. I'm busy."
Darcor tilted his head and asked,
"Who's the client? The one who ordered my head."
"Urk... I'll never tell. The guild's reputation..."
Carhedin glared with bloodshot eyes, holding out.
To an assassin, leaking info meant death.
"Reputation? Your neck's on the line, and you're talking reputation?"
Darcor scoffed in disbelief.
"Fine. Don't bother talking. I'll see for myself."
"What do you—"
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Checking the target's information.] [Identified as an extra character.] [Attempting to retrieve character information...] ⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙ [Character information retrieval successful!] Name: Carhedin Vior Occupation: Guild Master of the elite assassin organization, Ether Guild Recent Commission: Emperor Assassination (Failed) Client: Baron, the Daroa Empire's envoy. Darcor's eyes flashed red.
Carhedin's memories flickered before him like a montage.
The secret meeting spots, their conversations.
And the client's face.
'As expected.'
He'd killed the envoy with Count Felix,
but they'd apparently taken out insurance.
Another rat lurking in the capital.
"Baron, the Daroa Empire's envoy."
Darcor murmured the name softly,
and horror flooded Carhedin's face.
"H-how do you...?"
"Told you. I'd see for myself."
Darcor's grip tightened.
"Thanks for the info. Goodbye."
Crack.
The head of the assassin guild that had terrorized the empire for decades
met a pathetic end without a proper scream.
Darcor tossed the body aside and headed to the corner.
The wall the System had indicated.
"Now, where's the code..."
A cleverly disguised secret safe.
"Screw it. No clue."
Rip!
Darcor tore the door off,
and golden light poured from the jagged opening.
Bars of gold, jewels, ledgers of commissions piled high.
"No taxes paid, and you hoarded all this?"
Humming cheerfully as he swept it all up, Darcor's hand paused.
At the very back of the safe.
A single worn, black leather ledger stained with fingerprints caught his eye.
Reeking of suspicion.
"Hmm?"
Flipping through it, Darcor's finger stopped.
A name he never expected.
Someone so close he'd never even suspected.
"Darkest shadows under the lamp, huh."
Darcor let out a hollow chuckle and pocketed the notebook.
The deepest part of the palace.
Someone hiding a blade right under his chin.
"This should be fun. Let's take a look at that face sometime."