Priest of Pain
The roar of the night sea waves thundered heavily as Solomon kicked off the ground.
Straight toward the blood-red orc in a suit—the Priest of Pain.
The 2nd-level shadow spell that had enveloped the area shattered. Casting it again offered no guarantee it wouldn’t break in the same way.
‘Let’s play it safer here.’
Alongside the Ghostwhale Bone Blade now coated in spells, he adjusted his grip on the Nightfall automatic crossbow with his free hand. Fortunately, his opponent wasn’t an incorporeal entity. This was a living enemy.
“Hup!”
At that moment, another wall of blood surged from the ground beneath the blood-red orc’s feet. The crossbow bolt instantly altered its trajectory, avoiding the obstacle in its path.
Following the silence spell, this was one of the techniques engraved by dwarf master craftsmen—auto-tracking functionality.
Like a guided missile that recalibrated its own path, the bolt split left and right before streaking toward the target beyond.
Taat!
Right then, the orc burst through the blood barrier that had risen before Solomon’s eyes. The multi-shot crossbow bolts were curving around to strike from behind when the orc charged forward in a straight line, shaking off the clumsy pursuit.
“!”
Solomon was caught off guard by the rapidly closing distance. The Priest of Pain, the tattooed blood-red orc, held no weapon in his hand. But Solomon realized the truth soon enough.
Fwoosh!
The tattoo on the back of the orc’s hand blazed like a fireball, and blood instantly coated his fist—shaping itself into a blade that scattered a chilling aura.
‘!’
The spell itself was similar to Solomon’s own. In other words, even though the enemy called himself a mage, he was fighting in the exact same close-combat style as Solomon.
Clang!
The blood-red blade collided with Solomon’s shadow blade. The instant they met, the blood-red orc—the Priest of Pain—kicked off the ground with all his strength, leaping sideways. The meaning behind the action was easy to understand.
The barrage of crossbow bolts that should have pierced the target’s back was now aimed squarely at Solomon instead.
‘Goddammit!’
Solomon twisted his body sharply to evade the incoming volley. Thankfully, the bolts’ homing function lost power at that point and fell silent.
‘In that case…’
Solomon paused for a brief moment. After the silence, he manipulated his Nightfall automatic crossbow. Gears, mechanisms, and the main frame clicked together, folding it into a compact form that could fit on his belt.
Clack. Clack.
He slid the Nightfall automatic crossbow into the quick-loader belt. Abandoning dual wielding, he gripped only the black blade in one hand. His other hand remained completely undefended.
“Hoh.”
The Priest of Pain looked at Solomon with clear interest.
“You know the secret to a proper kiss.”
“…What the hell are you talking about?”
Solomon asked back, utterly bewildered by the follow-up.
“When kissing a beautiful woman, you must focus solely on the woman before your eyes.”
“…”
“In other words, aiming a crossbow while kissing the woman in front of you… means you are not truly concentrating on the ‘kiss’ itself.”
Solomon fell silent, at a complete loss for words. The Priest of Pain then revealed the blood blade resting in his hand and continued.
“Whatever you call yourself—assassin, swordsman, mage—it doesn’t matter. I simply wish to say that when you kiss, focusing entirely on the kiss is the greatest ‘secret to kissing well.’”
“…I see.”
Solomon let out a hollow laugh, stunned. Here was a motivational-speaker tone coming from the man who had come to kill him.
“So, focus on the kiss. That’s what you’re saying.”
With a whatever-happens-happens attitude, Solomon readjusted his grip on the blade. Not the crossbow—this time, only the Ghostwhale Bone Blade infused with spells. His other hand stayed empty.
This was the moment that demanded focus. Of course, he had no intention of kissing the orc man standing before him.
“Let’s go again.”
After their short exchange, the Priest of Pain kicked off the ground. Boom! The asphalt beneath his feet cracked and split from the sheer force. With monstrous strength and speed, the distance between them vanished.
“!”
Solomon steadied his stance. Meeting that speed and weight head-on in a fair fight would be suicide. Instead, he focused on the blood blade rushing toward him and let his center of gravity flow outward, slipping away from the strike.
Kaang!
By deflecting the center of the blade outward, he avoided taking the full impact. Even so, the force was enough to make both his legs tremble.
Slash!
After several clashes, the first wound belonged to Solomon.
“Guh!”
A diagonal cut across his ribs. Fortunately, it had only grazed past his organs and spilled outward.
‘He’s strong!’
He could feel it instinctively. This was why two of the hotel’s contractors had ended up dead.
Moreover, unlike before, the opponent no longer gave Solomon any breathing room. Even though he hadn’t broken Solomon’s stance with a single blow, he continued with a second and third strike, thoroughly dismantling Solomon’s posture.
Kaang!
The blood blade and black blade clashed. In that instant, the orc’s free hand struck toward Solomon’s now-undefended solar plexus. Blade and fist.
“!”
Thankfully, Solomon managed to wrap around the incoming fist aimed at his solar plexus and knock it outward.
This was only possible because he wasn’t holding the crossbow. The moment he deflected the punch, the blood blade came rushing in. Solomon immediately readjusted his black blade and knocked the attack aside.
No sooner had he done so than the tip of the blood blade plunged toward his wrist.
Kaang! Kang!
Like two snakes coiling around each other, desperately trying to sink their fangs into the other’s vital spot.
What they targeted wasn’t the opponent himself.
The swords each man held were both weapons and vital points in their own right. This was knife fighting from the very beginning—aimed at neutralizing the enemy’s blade and slicing the nearest artery.
At this stage, the opponent’s vital points were no longer obvious targets like the neck or heart.
The wrists holding the blades, and the arteries around them.
This was no longer a mage’s battle. It was the most straightforward swordsman’s fight, waged purely with two blades.
Whenever the blood blade swung, the hand not holding the crossbow acted as a shield.
Instead of parrying the blade itself, he struck the wrist holding it—deflecting the trajectory—then pushed the opponent’s forearm away to create distance, giving Solomon’s black blade room to counterattack.
The endless exchange of blades made the sounds of the world disappear. He had reached a state of focus so deep he couldn’t even comprehend it himself. His mind had never felt clearer or more transparent.
It was as if the world contained nothing but two blades—one black, one red.
‘Strange…’
A sensation that couldn’t be fully described with the word “unfamiliar.” It was almost like what swordsmen called a state of mastery.
And in that state of perfect concentration, a single clue flashed before Solomon’s eyes.
‘Now!’
He didn’t miss the tiny opening.
‘.’
A very small gap. In reality, it wasn’t even enough to inflict a fatal wound. At best, it would leave a minor cut. But Solomon’s goal had never been that.
His body melted into the night air for a split second.
In truth, it was only an instant. He vanished and reappeared almost simultaneously.
A forced sneak attack from a transparent state.
“Hup…!”
Slash!
The strike clearly knocked the blood blade aside and pierced the priest just below the collarbone.
It wasn’t a vital point. Nor was it an attack aimed at the back while in stealth. The key wasn’t the damage itself. It was the simple fact that he had wounded the enemy with a sneak attack.
The fact that his opponent was now bleeding.
This was the moment Solomon’s carefully refined build would finally shine.
Fighting honorably as a swordsman ended here.
From now on, it was time for the utterly underhanded methods of an assassin.
‘Successfully inflicted bleeding via sneak attack.’
The bleed-related abilities he had learned as his subclass, Reaper.
──
◈ On successful melee sneak attack, the Bleed status effect lasts significantly longer and is much harder to remove.
◈ Attacks against enemies suffering from the Bleed status effect deal +2 additional damage.
To establish a bleed build, wounding the enemy was essential—whether he liked it or not. And it had to be through a melee sneak attack.
That was why Solomon had closed the distance somewhat recklessly and honestly.
“Life is overflowing.”
The Priest of Pain murmured amid the pouring blood.
“An amount that cannot be explained by providence… that defies all reason…”
The words were difficult, but the meaning was clear. Solomon’s Excessive Bleeding Induction was causing a volume of bleeding that should not be physically possible.
On top of that, the additional damage inflicted on the enemy while in an excessive bleed state. With this, the build had finally taken proper shape.
───
1st-level spells: 5 uses (⚀⚀⚀⚀⚀)
2nd-level spells: 1 use (⚁■■)
3rd-level spells: 0 uses (■)
‘One 2nd-level spell slot left, and more than enough 1st-level slots.’
Solomon calmly assessed the situation and steadied his stance. If he used the veil of darkness again, it would clearly shatter just like before. Fortunately, the abundance of 1st-level slots put him in a very advantageous position.
“To think that you were truly my death.”
By now, the pool of blood dripping beneath the blood-red orc’s feet was no laughing matter. It wasn’t normal bleeding—it flowed as if his body had contracted a disease that completely disabled clotting.
“…”
Solomon offered no reply. Nothing would change.
Boom!
At that moment, the blood at their feet began to surge like a violent current. Simultaneously, the blood-red orc kicked off the ground. The longer the fight dragged on, the more disadvantageous it became for him. Therefore, the opponent had no choice but to change his approach.
Like a candle burning at both ends with nowhere left to run.
The blood blade swung within the rapidly closing distance. Even the movement itself carried the desperate force of having nothing left to lose.
Kaang!
Blood and shadow blades crossed. The moment they did, the distance opened again, then closed once more. Solomon didn’t retreat. He met the orc’s fight head-on with equal honesty.
Without any greedy desire to fell the opponent in a single strike, he instead used the enemy’s reckless movements against him, aiming to exhaust the orc completely. Even so, within the constant bleeding, the orc’s openings were becoming obvious. His stance was beginning to falter.
‘Now.’
When the time came, Solomon’s body melted into the air once again. The transparency spell. Yet this time, it wasn’t to hide or conceal himself.
Slash!
Once again, a forced sneak attack was unleashed from a transparent state. It wasn’t about the damage of the attack itself, nor about driving a wedge into the fight.
It was to stack the status effect Excessive Bleeding Induction.
‘That makes two stacks.’
Slash!
An absurd amount of blood poured out once more. As if the body, afflicted by a disease that prevented clotting, was endlessly spewing blood.
The blood-red orc staggered.
Within that endless hemorrhage, the Priest of Pain’s stance finally collapsed. This was it. Solomon didn’t hesitate.
Crunch!
The distance closed, and a single strike drove downward. The tip of the black blade pierced straight through the orc’s chest.
“A fine… fight it was.”
After the blow landed, the Priest of Pain dropped to one knee.
“The pain that does not kill us… only makes us stronger…”
Even with death staring him in the face, he smiled with greater satisfaction than ever before.
“The pain that does kill us… leads us into endless peace…”
“I see.”
“It pains me that I could not complete the task I was given… but it cannot be helped.”
“Task?”
“Are you… interested?”
“Moderately.”
With his breathing growing ragged, the blood-red orc spoke.
“They say the assassins of Hotel Snark never disappoint.”
“Depends on the person. You’d know that better than me.”
At Solomon’s answer, the blood-red orc continued with great effort.
“That dwarf… invaded our archipelago and stole a sacred relic belonging to the honorable Blood Moon Tribe.”
“…”
“It is my duty to retrieve it by any means necessary.”
“Too bad.”
“I have… one request.”
At the final edge of his burning life, the ancient orc of the Blood Moon Tribe spoke.
“Please… return our sacred relic to where it belongs.”
“And why should I do that?”
Solomon replied coldly on purpose.
“From what I see… you seem to possess considerable knowledge of magic.”
“Something like that.”
“Our tribe’s sacred relic will surely bestow upon you a ‘Baptism of Blood’ unlike anything you have experienced before.”
“Baptism of Blood?”
“That… is the reward for this request…”
The conversation ended there. With those final words, the orc of the Blood Moon Tribe—the Priest of Pain—closed his eyes.
A short silence followed. In the quiet of the night, Solomon rose to his feet.
‘The requests just keep pouring in.’
As the hotel’s ace, he would continue handling the endless stream of commissions that came his way.