Imperial Capital Edelmarion, Part 8

A lantern rose in the pitch-black darkness. It was a vermilion light. Sirien gently swayed the lantern, and several assassins closing the perimeter had their gazes stolen by it. The focus vanished from their eyes. A serene, beautiful voice seemed to echo in my mind.

The bewilderment did not last long. A few other assassins grew alert and snapped the enthralled ones out of their daze. It was almost instinctive—some animalistic sense warning them of danger. It told them they must not look at that lantern for long. Some even cut their own flesh to force their minds awake. On the battlefield, there were always those who escaped mental interference in such a manner.

The assassins consciously tore their eyes away from the lantern, but this time, a splashing sound echoed from beneath their feet.

"Water...?"

One of the assassins gasped and looked down. The graveyard floor had clearly been covered in dry soil just moments ago. Yet the ridge where the sun had been setting was gone, replaced by an ominous expanse of land blooming with red spider lilies.

The source of the water. A long, winding river stretched out, its end lost to sight. I knew exactly what that river was. Though it looked like ordinary, clean water on the surface, it was actually the death that surged through this graveyard.

Yes. No matter what anyone said, this was a graveyard. It was a place where the divinity of Hibras, the god of rest and death, was maximized. To us, this place was practically a sanctuary, and since ancient times, fighting a priest within their own sanctuary was never a wise endeavor.

The river of the underworld that purifies souls. Washing away all the sins and memories accumulated in the mortal realm—the final gateway before entering eternal rest. The place where Hibras's lantern ultimately reached was now overlaid onto reality.

'Well, half ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of it is just an illusion, though.'

Sirien's Authorities involved a lot of trickery. Since her powers affected the soul rather than the physical body, she said it was far more efficient to interfere with the mind than to exert raw physical force. The death delivered by the Saintess of Hibras was not unconditional. Inflicting it on intelligent beings capable of communication required a massive toll, and attempting it against high-ranking souls accompanied fatal internal injuries. Against humans, using ordinary holy magic was far more efficient.

However, humans consumed by fear or rage were no different from beasts. The moment their reason dulled in any way, Hibras deemed that the rank of their soul had temporarily fallen. Once the soul's rank plummeted to the bottom, she could forcibly grant them death or compel them to commit suicide without much strain.

Yet, this sanctuary was not purely for deception. This paramita—the far shore—was also a domain meant for me. Though, considering their skill level, it felt like a bit of an overinvestment.

In the deep darkness, my vision opened up even brighter than during the day. The deeper the forced night grew, and the more the divinity Sirien spread seized the surroundings, the sharper my five senses became.

'Three toward Sirien. Four toward me. Is the leader coming my way?'

The weight of the sword in my hand felt incredibly distinct. The minutely shifted center of gravity. The flow of air created when my body and blade moved, the habits betrayed by the assassins' footsteps and gazes—everything entered my perception.

"Keep the promise you made yesterday."

"Not to get hurt?"

"Yeah."

"You too. I'll leave the three in the back entirely to you."

Soon, the assassins reached engagement range. Perhaps they were quite confident in their swordsmanship, as their sharp blades rushed in like the wind. The ring of our swords clashing was remarkably clear. A swift, sharp strike. At the same time, it didn't lack heavy power. I didn't know where they had been trained, but they were decent.

But there were some problems that couldn't be solved by merely being "decent." The days when I had to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rely on cheap tricks due to a lack of strength were long behind me. I pushed forward, violently overpowering the sword in front of me, and the assassin, bested in raw strength, naturally tried to step back. Or rather, he attempted to. He took a step back, but failed to achieve his goal. Chains rising from the ground had bound his feet.

The price of taking a hit from a sword he should have avoided was, naturally, his life. His severed body fell to the ground, and the red spider lilies were drenched in blood.

Since one had died so helplessly, only three remained. The basic rule of a group fighting a single opponent was to spread out and exploit blind spots. One assassin quickly slipped to my flank. I could have blocked him, but I didn't.

"If you go that way, you'll die."

Because, as I said, that was a dead zone. I had anticipated his movement and pre-condensed my divinity there. Using the tip of my sword as a signal, I slashed through the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠air, and pitch-black blades erupted from the ground. 'I should probably keep at least one alive, right?' I flicked the blood off my sword.

The sensation at the tip of my sword was quite chilling. The feeling of a blade cutting through a human body. The pressure of blood spurting from dense muscle and the vibration of bone being severed resonated through my fingertips. Cutting a human felt different from cutting a demon; there was something rather unpleasant about it, even though the time for me to feel guilt over killing had long since passed.

'It was a good thing I kept one alive.'

The three Sirien dealt with died in absolute silence. One lay collapsed, having been killed instantly, while another had stabbed his own throat to commit suicide. The last one trudged over to Sirien and fell to his knees. He looked like a prisoner awaiting execution. Sirien raised her axe and severed his head.

A clean three for me. Since Sirien had killed all three of hers, only one assassin remained. He was the one who had been discreetly barking orders. He was undoubtedly the leader of these assassins. I had severed one of his arms, but it wasn't immediately life-threatening. The reason I kept him alive was, of course, for interrogation.

Usually, those raised as assassins are tight-lipped. However, they didn't maintain absolute silence like in comic books. Humans are surprisingly vulnerable to pain, and endless torture devastates the human mind. Assassins trained to withstand any torture are mostly a myth.

But it was also true that torturing an assassin wasn't particularly useful. In the first place, assassins rarely knew anything beyond what was necessary for their mission. No matter how much you tortured them, you couldn't extract information they simply didn't possess. Still, in a situation like this, I couldn't just not try. I pointed my sword at his leg.

"I don't want to make things tedious for either of us, so I'd appreciate it if you answered my questions. Who is backing you?"

"...Monsters. You both look so young."

"Did I ask you to evaluate our skills?"

The tip of my blade pierced the assassin's thigh. He grit his teeth, refusing to let out even a groan. Was he trying to show how tough he was? It seemed he had no intention of making this easy. Sirien, who had been watching, spoke up nonchalantly.

"Not there. You should stab a bit higher."

"Huh?"

"About the width of my pinky finger higher. Stabbing there hurts much more. There's no point in stabbing the same spot twice, so stab the other side next time."

"Uh... okay."

The assassin let out a bitter laugh. I aimed my sword at the spot Sirien had indicated. I had no idea how she knew such things. Where on earth did she learn that? At any rate, since Sirien said so, I decided to do as she suggested. After making a shallow cut with the tip of my blade, I asked again.

"Who is behind this?"

"Do you think I'd tell you?"

"Then let me ask something else. Where are your comrades?"

"..."

The assassin fell silent. Perhaps he possessed some sense of camaraderie, as he shut his mouth tight. There was no way to force someone to speak if they were absolutely determined not to. If such a method existed, inquisitors wouldn't have had to master brutal torture techniques. However, wasting our time came with a price.

Thwack. The blade bit in once more. As I threw a few more questions at him, he surprisingly didn't stay completely silent. However, his answers weren't particularly useful. It seemed there was a clear line to what he could and couldn't say. As expected, the interrogation was largely pointless. We could keep going, but at this rate, it would only tire us both out. I glanced at Sirien. She nodded. It was a sign to wrap things up.

"This is your last chance. Tell me anything you know, and I'll give you a painless death. I have no talent for torture, but I know some people who are exceptionally good at it. If you don't answer, I'll hand you over to them and wash my hands of this."

"...We aren't the only ones scheduled to get blood on our hands today. I know nothing more than that."

"That's enough. Just let him go, Rajen."

"Alright. I'll keep my promise."

Slash. With the sound of parting wind, the assassin's head was severed. His expression didn't even contort, so there must have been no pain. I pushed his collapsing body aside. Sirien's divinity guided his soul to repose.

Tap, tap. She tapped her fingers in contemplation before quickly reaching a conclusion.

"It seems even this guy didn't know who was behind it, but it means they have another target. They can't touch our lodging because other nobles ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠are staying there. Isha is with the young Count of Eshk. By process of elimination, that leaves only one person."

"Baron Isquente?"

"Yes. He said he was going outside the outer wall today. Wouldn't he be the easiest target to strike?"