What the Hell Is That?
Leon set out toward the southwestern hills—the starting point.
The zones he passed along the way still had no owners. Naturally, Class A cleaned them out thoroughly as they went.
After about one to two hours, they had managed to turn the flags of two Rank 2 zones and four Rank 3 zones red.
The equipment from Rank 2 zones offered no defensive power—just items that slightly boosted physical ability. And from Rank 3 zones, it was mostly consumables like potions. They took everything. Not bad at all.
Beside a still-warm flag from a Rank 3 zone they'd claimed only moments ago, Leon and his party took a brief rest. Some cadets downed mana recovery potions. Others checked their gear.
A warm wind—closer to summer than spring—brushed across their faces. The six-hour sun hanging in the sky had already crossed the meridian and was beginning its descent.
"Hmm..."
Leon was examining two daggers they'd obtained here.
Not bad.
They settled into his hands nicely. He rather liked them. Blade length about a handspan—usable for throwing, too. Weight, durability, blade shape: all the type Leon preferred.
Whirr—
The two daggers danced elegantly atop both of Leon's hands.
The reason he was suddenly taking interest in mere daggers...
Perfect for tonight.
Given the nature of assassination—where agility and stealth mattered most—daggers were the most comfortable weapons to use. Leon, who'd always been interested in assassination techniques, had trained consistently with daggers. And after gaining talent with the sword, his skill had risen dramatically.
In short: he was confident.
Just as Leon was tucking the daggers into his waist and coat—
Rustle.
"......!"
A faint, minute sound of grass brushing. So weak one might dismiss it as the wind—but it was unmistakably a human presence.
Shing!
Leon drew his sword and spoke at the same time.
"Combat ready!"
The moment the words left his mouth, five heads rose over the hill to Leon's left. They no longer bothered hiding their presence and charged.
The face of the woman leading them was familiar to Leon. A lean, compact build. Light brown hair tied loosely at mid-length, soft eyes.
Jeniel Sovereign, representative of Class J.
Five martial artists charging with bull-like ferocity, Jeniel at the front.
"What the hell is that?"
Leon let out a hollow laugh and kicked off the ground. Even with some people posted for zone perimeter watch, thirteen of them were here including himself. What confidence made them charge with more than double the numbers against them...
"......!?"
But when Leon saw what the Class J cadets pulled from their coats, his eyes went wide.
Black outer casing, circuits engraved on the surface. A circular emblem carved into the lid. It was a familiar object—Leon recognized it at a glance.
Whoosh!
From their fingertips, spheres the size of stones tore through the air with a piercing whistle—straight toward the feet of the Class A cadets.
"SCATTER!!!"
"““......!”””
At the single word that burst from Leon's mouth, the cadets flung themselves left, right, or backward as if bouncing. That they could react so astonishingly fast to that instantaneous command could only be explained as the fruit of training and repetition.
Then the spheres landed where they'd been standing.
BOOOOOOM-!!!
Condensed mana detonated, and a violent explosion erupted. The blast momentarily deafened their ears. The ground flipped over, weeds and dirt rocketing into the air. The shock sent the cadets' bodies flying in the directions they'd already been leaping.
The mana barriers from their bracelet artifacts shattered to pieces—but thanks to that, their bodies took little damage.
"...Crazy. Where the hell did they get mana bombs?"
Leon, who'd tumbled forward in a roll, pushed himself up and spat the words out. Granted, it seemed like a very low-yield model. But still more than enough firepower to put three or four people in the ground.
"Haha! Leon, hello!"
A cheerful laugh—and a chill across his forehead. Leon jerked his head back.
BANG!
A fist punched through the space where his head had been. The fist, wrapped in bandages, wore a studded leather glove.
"As expected—you're fast."
Jeniel withdrew her hand with a radiant smile. Her teal eyes curved prettily.
"......"
It was too urgent a situation for his usual banter. Leon's senses rapidly scanned the surroundings.
Class A cadets still reeling from the blast's aftermath. Four Class J martial artists charging at them. No other presence detected beyond that.
Need to get out of here.
Leon made a quick decision. These five couldn't be all of them. Allies posted at other zones would be under attack by now too. In a straight fight it might be different—but if they were waging guerrilla warfare with mana bombs, his side was at a disadvantage.
I told them to run the moment they see anything, so they won't die.
He hadn't left them to hold the zones—just for simple perimeter watch. Even if they took a bomb hit, the mana barriers would keep them from going down immediately.
Gather everyone, then hit them all at once.
For that, he first needed to drop the bull right in front of him.
"Thinking hard, are we?"
Jeniel's beast-like eyes were hunting for openings in Leon.
"Come on, then."
Saying that, Leon went in first himself.
Tap, tap!
He feinted with steps left and right, then charged to the right. Jeniel's shoulder began to move—timing a counter for his approach. Leon immediately switched left and accelerated again.
Whoosh!
His form tore through the air, leaving a faint afterimage behind.
"Hup!"
Jeniel's response was swift. Spinning like a top, she launched a front kick toward Leon's face. The rotational force-enhanced kick shot along the path of Leon's charge—even a glancing blow would shatter his entire skull.
CRASH!!
A thunderous boom erupted. It wasn't the sound of Leon's head cracking. It was the noise of the ground he'd been standing on cratering inward.
Having accelerated to maximum speed at the last moment, Leon briefly slipped from Jeniel's field of vision.
"......!"
Right? Left? Behind?
Jeniel's eyes flew wide. Rather than searching for her opponent, she first wrapped mana tightly around her entire body. Then, trusting instinct, she swung her arm.
CLANG!
Right side. Her forearm, clad in protective aura, collided with the Heaven-Shattering Sword.
"...You marked me, didn't you?"
"Yep."
Answering boldly, Jeniel drove deep toward his body. Good instincts. Leon clicked his tongue and stepped through Heavenly Spirit Steps, brushing past her in a bypass.
Barely ten seconds into the exchange, and some of the Class A cadets already looked on the verge of collapse. The enemy was relentlessly pressing those who'd taken the explosion head-on.
Ending it this time.
Resolving himself, Leon surged at Jeniel once more.
Tap, tap—
Steps left and right, same as before.
BOOM!
But this time he kicked off the ground a half-beat faster. Closing to point-blank range, he drew his sword from bottom to top.
Jecheon Sword Style, First Form: Yeomyeong.
SWISH!
The sword form, imbued with the principle of Speed, carved a diagonal line leaving only a faint ray of light in the air.
"I've seen that a few times."
Jeniel's eye for detail was sharp. Reading the technique from Leon's movements alone, she'd already placed her fist-aura along the predicted path.
CLANG!
Once again the blade was blocked by her fist. Of course. That was what Leon intended. If he'd used the First Form for real, she wouldn't even have realized he was using a technique.
With sword and fist still locked—Leon's left hand slipped into his chest and burst out. His arm swept through the air in a short arc.
Flutter!
"......!"
Only then did Jeniel realize Leon was holding the sword with just one hand. She'd been using both hands to block the sword strike.
THUNK!
Two daggers buried themselves in both her shoulders.
RIP!
The remaining one tore a deep gash past her temple. If she hadn't reflexively twisted her head, it would have buried itself between her eyes.
"Damn, your instincts are good. Dodging that too?"
Muttering, Leon was already driving a hard kick into her abdomen.
THUD!
Kicking her stomach felt like kicking solid rock. Martial artists' bodies were harder than imagination allowed. Without mana behind it, his ankle would definitely have broken.
"Guh!"
Struck around the solar plexus, Jeniel flew backward with a groan. Veins bulged on her face, flushed bright red. A clean hit to a vital point—her body wouldn't have strength left.
Now was the time to run.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
Shouting, Leon scattered sword energy at the enemies beating on his allies, creating an opening.
"To the rally point!"
They'd prearranged a meeting zone for situations like this. Class A began scrambling to extract themselves.
"Couldn't we just fight and take them all?"
Even as he worked his feet hard, Pierre asked back. True enough, they could. But Class J's follow-up forces might arrive as reinforcements. And fighting these ones might get the allies elsewhere wiped out.
Instead of explaining all that at length—
"......"
Leon shot him a look.
Nod, nod.
Pierre immediately bobbed his head.