Chapter 63
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 63
Chapter Title: 25. Wilderness Rite
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“How many presences do you sense?”
[Tundra] At least ten, I'd say? They're reeking of killing intent so much it's impossible not to notice.
“...”
It was much later than expected, but fine by me.
In fact, it worked out perfectly.
Better than clutching a ticking time bomb to my chest, wondering when it might blow.
Easier to dismantle it the moment it showed up.
One snag, though—their numbers.
In the original story, it was just a handful of thugs, three or four at most.
Ten? Way too many.
For jumping a single sleeping woman, no less.
Overkill didn't even begin to cover it.
Wondering if this glitch tied into the delayed random event only made my head throb harder, but there was no time to dwell.
I had to move before they burst in.
“Tundra.”
[Tundra] Yes, my lord. Standing by.
“Leave three.”
I pressed my brow hard with my fingers, staring coldly into empty space.
“Capture the rest.”
[Tundra] As you command!
Kkiiik.
Tundra's cheeky yet chilling laugh brushed past from the shadows.
Once I confirmed his presence had vanished completely, I pulled the door handle and stepped out of the room.
I briefly considered waking Imir before shutting the door but decided against it.
No need to borrow her hands for trash like this.
Click.
I closed the door carefully and stepped into the corridor, halting midway.
Then I decided to wait quietly for them.
They'd have to pass through here to reach Iris anyway.
Better to let the prey come to me on their own feet than stir up a racket downstairs.
In front of the dormitory, shrouded in pitch-black darkness.
About ten shadowy figures gathered silently in a blind spot beyond the streetlamp's reach.
Masked faces, bodies clad in tight black garb—their movements were fluid, like old pros.
Far too skilled and stealthy for ordinary students.
“...Everyone ready?”
The man who seemed to be the leader whispered low.
His voice carried tension laced with a bloodthirsty edge.
“Ready ages ago.”
“More like, when do we head in?”
At that moment, the man with bandages wrapped around both arms cut in irritably.
He looked like he could barely grip anything properly, but his eyes burned with venom.
“Don't rush.”
“Kailun, why'd that bastard show up looking like that?”
“Guess he wants to spectate.”
“Why really?”
“Shut it, you idiots!”
Kailun bristled at his comrades' jeers.
But the leader decided to ignore him and turned to a figure beside him.
“Enough chatter. Dorm supervisor?”
“Handled already. Won't wake tonight.”
“Good.”
The man nodded in satisfaction at the familiar report.
He slowly raised his head, glaring at the firmly shut dormitory front gate, reminding them once more of their goal.
“As Lucian instructed, target is one: Iris Riel.”
The masked men nodded in unison.
They'd heard who their mark was enough times to be sick of it.
It wasn't for some injured comrade or upholding a senior's dignity—none of that clichéd nonsense.
Excuses never mattered in the first place.
They were simply joining their master and leader, Lucian von Hellent, in his favorite hunting game.
That was reason enough.
“As long as she's not killed, the rest is fair game?”
“Right. Keep her breathing. Everything else is free rein.”
“Her family's nobodies anyway. Perfect.”
“I'm first, obviously.”
Vile chuckles leaked from beneath their masks.
No need to ask what filthy thoughts they harbored—it was obvious.
No one intended to rein them in.
Trash through and through, which was exactly why they never balked at dirty work.
Of course, it would've been impossible without their patron Lucian von Hellent's protection.
“Move.”
At the man's signal, they glided silently toward the front gate.
The unlocked gate posed no obstacle at all.
Without so much as a creak, they slipped inside like shadows.
“...”
As mentioned, the lobby supervisor was face-planted on his desk in deep slumber.
Courtesy of the sleep incense they'd prepared.
“First floor clear.”
“Up to second.”
They ascended the stairs as silently as possible, not a footstep to be heard.
Their target, Iris's room, was precisely on the third floor.
Once they reached it, it was over.
No matter how skilled she was, in the dead of night, deep in sleep—she couldn't fend off a dozen men.
They held no personal grudge against her.
If anything, they pitied her.
She was just a first-year, barely enrolled, a girl they'd never even seen.
Just bad luck, that's all.
If she had a sin, it was one: catching Lucian von Hellent's fancy.
Nothing more.
“Second floor clear.”
“Hurry. Let's wrap this up...!”
Swish.
The words from one of the trailing men cut off abruptly, scattering into the air.
As if the darkness had swallowed him whole. Not even a short cry.
“...?”
One man sensed the faint severance of presence behind and turned.
But the corridor was empty.
Completely.
Not even a trace of the comrade who should have been there.
“What the—something just...”
Sss.
Before he could voice his doubt, a black shadow snaked up his ankle like a serpent.
“Wha...!”
He tried to call to the men ahead, but his mouth was already devoured by shadow.
His panicked eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of a grinning face in the darkness as he was dragged to the floor.
[Tundra] Shh.
Sss.
Second. Third.
With every step up the stairs.
Black tendrils from the shadows dragged the masked men one by one into the abyss.
Silently, like sinking into a swamp.
“...Hm?”
A man thought he heard a stifled gasp behind him and glanced back.
Only empty stairs greeted him.
They'd been a dozen strong climbing together, but now the presences felt spotty.
“Hey, what's the holdup? Move it.”
“Uh, no... Jayke's missing?”
“...Damn slowpoke. Probably hit the john. Ignore it and climb.”
Something felt off, a nagging unease.
But prodded by his comrade, the man shook it off and stepped forward.
Of course, he barely made it a few paces before vanishing into the shadows.
“...”
When they finally reached the third-floor corridor in tense silence.
Their numbers had dwindled to just over half.
“...What the hell? Where'd everyone go?”
The leader at the front turned, brow furrowed.
They'd started with over ten, but now only five stood behind him.
“Beats me? Bathroom break?”
“...Don't be stupid. All five at once? In this situation?”
His growl silenced the rest.
It defied common sense.
Even these self-serving idiots wouldn't ghost mid-mission without a word.
Couldn't be an attack—no one had sensed a thing.
Magic? He considered it but shook his head.
Impossible. No mana traces from first to third floor.
“...Something's wrong. Stay sharp.”
That was when it happened.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Slow applause echoed from the darkness.
All eyes snapped to the corridor's end.
A figure emerged slowly from the thick gloom.
Backlit by moonlight, his face was obscured.
But the pressure he exuded stabbed like needles into their skin.
“Five, huh. Tundra, you bastard.”
Hmm.
The man stroked his chin thoughtfully for a moment.
“...Three should suffice.”
He muttered low.
Utterly arrogant, as if the foes before him were beneath notice.
“...Who the hell are you?”
No presence at all.
Until he revealed himself, they hadn't even known anyone was there.
How did he know about the ambush? What happened to the others?
Questions burned, but his first words were about the man's identity.
No intel on a guy like this.
The leader drew his sword on instinct, fear prickling.
The other four hastily followed suit.
“Me? Hmm.”
The man stepped forward slowly from the shadows, grinning viciously.
Moonlight spilling through the window illuminated his face, revealing distinctive dull gray hair and eyes.
“Call me the villain.”
Seeing that twisted grin.
A name flashed in the leader's mind.
No way. But only one matched that description.
“Th-that bastard! It's Evan Dreadnote!”
His comrade's shout turned suspicion to certainty.
His face hardened as he stared at Evan.
He knew the guy. How could he not?
Classmate. Rumored noble-beater.
The star of the academy's latest vicious gossip.
I-I know nothing. Nothing! Eek!
Of course, the victims had no intention of spilling, so it remained rumor.
“Evan Dreadnote.”
The leader spat the name like he was chewing it over.
The guy's notoriety spanned nobles and commoners alike.
Even as his senior, he'd heard plenty—but this was their first face-to-face.
“...Not sleeping this late? What's your deal?”
“That's my question.”
Evan slowly scanned the masked crew.
“Mob-handed in the dead of night? Out for a stroll?”