A Fishing Hook Made of Gold Coins (4)
"We've confirmed he boarded the carriage."
"Move out. Pursue."
As the sun began to set, the target of the contract walked out from the heart of the city and climbed into a carriage. The assailants watched every step of the boarding. They confirmed that the direction the carriage took matched their intelligence exactly.
The plan had not changed. Scattered across the city, the assailants began to move one by one. Their movements were nothing short of covert.
It was not merely because they were Sword Seekers or Sword Experts. Each of them had their own desperate reasons. They had to succeed in this operation even if it cost them their lives. Some sought to save a lover. Others, a child. Still others fought for personal honor.
Desperation made them thorough.
Fifteen Sword Experts. Four Sword Seekers. One 5-circle mage. Twenty in total. Gathering all at once would of course expose them, so they kept fixed distances as they drifted toward the outskirts of the city.
They melted into crowds, hid themselves among processions of carriages, and moved. So stealthy was their progress that no one noticed their movements shared a single purpose and a single direction.
This was the day of the decisive battle.
A pursuit team trailing the carriage. A waiting team already positioned along the road it would take. And an assault team centered on the mage, ready to cut off the path ahead. Divided into several packs, the hunters held their breath, sharp daggers concealed.
There was nothing difficult about it.
They had poured so much blood and sweat into this, stacked so precise an operation. No variable could exist.
2.
The sun sank and twilight settled in.
A gentle tremor rolled along Ahmeti Road. The carriage had arrived. The rough grind of its wheels. The pounding of horses' hooves. Listening to the sounds, the assailants steadied their breathing.
They waited in the shadows, in the underbrush, among dense trees, and behind uneven terrain.
Then the moment came. The carriage appeared. Looking closely, one could also see the pursuit team keeping distance behind it. The instant the waiting team gave the signal, the assault team blocked the road ahead of the carriage.
A five-circle mage.
Sirchel Kravelin.
The moment she, leader of the assault team, slammed her staff into the earth, five rings rose behind her back. A 5-circle mage was often classified as a siege weapon capable of casting large-scale annihilation magic in earnest.
And at this very moment Sirchel had already finished her chant. The spell she had held in standby loaded itself at the tip of her staff with a violent friction of circles. A spell that could erase a single carriage without a trace.
Fwoosh!
Blazing flame flared.
Yet they had not staked everything on a single spell. Klaus Aten, commander of the pursuit team that had been trailing the carriage at a distance, kicked off the ground and accelerated in a single breath.
Boom!
The instant his foot struck the earth, a roar like a cannonball launching tore through the air. Klaus had once commanded a cavalry unit, and he was a powerhouse whose leg strength allowed him to perform a lance charge even without a warhorse.
He swung his arm; the folded weapon snapped open into a three-meter lance.
Whiiiiip!
From the rear, a lance that split the wind and drove forward. From the front, the large-scale annihilation magic of a 5-circle mage. And from the flanks, the assault team burst out drawing their aura. There was nowhere to flee.
First the massive fireball would burn the carriage to nothing. Even if something escaped the flames, the lance charging from behind would skewer it, and the swordsmen rushing in from the sides with aura drawn would tear it to shreds.
They were certain of victory.
They had sworn there would be no variables in the plan.
The sound of hooves, the vibration of carriage wheels, the roar of flames at the tip of a mage's staff, the certainty that the plan had succeeded perfectly and the judgment that certainty had shaken—all of it combined······.
They failed to notice.
They failed to notice that someone had hidden here even earlier than those preparing for the ambush. They failed to notice that she had drawn twin daggers from her back and kicked off the ground.
Because they failed to notice, they failed to prepare.
Roselyn Ascalo revealed herself behind the assailants and kicked off the earth. Instant acceleration. With every step she took, her black hair—bound into a single rope—streamed in the wind.
···Roselyn Ascalo was a mercenary.
She was a mercenary among mercenaries who had tasted countless battlefields, and in a situation like this she knew better than anyone whom to strike first. The mage. In every battlefield, the mage was the asset that had to be eliminated first.
"···!"
The first to sense her approach was Gerold, standing at Sirchel's side. Eyes wide, the man gripping a greatsword whipped his head around. He seized Sirchel by the nape and switched places with her.
The decision was correct.
As he swapped positions and swung his sword, Roselyn, who had already closed the distance to point-blank range, swept her twin blades. Five Sword Experts stood nearby, yet not one of them could keep up with the two combatants' movements.
Kaaaaaaaaaaang!
Gerold's greatsword and Roselyn's twin blades collided. An especially piercing clang rang out. Only after that sound echoed did the Experts catch sight of Roselyn who had brushed past them and widen their eyes.
But by then it was already far too late.
Only Gerold understood the situation. His pupils shot open. That unusually loud noise. And the twin blades in Roselyn's hands. The moment those blades began to resonate, Gerold gritted his teeth and went on the defensive, hiding his body behind the greatsword.
And then Echo rang.
The echo created by Echo spread.
The 21st Masterpiece, Echo. The Mystery dwelling within it: Resonance. Roselyn's sword aura riding Echo swept the battlefield.
Kiiiiiiiiing!
The five Experts standing near her were shredded into dozens of pieces. The greatsword that took Echo's direct hit shuddered violently, and a crimson barrier rose around the mage Sirchel who had been hiding behind Gerold. The spreading echo clawed at Sirchel's barrier again and again.
Even the flame she had prepared at the tip of her staff was forced into use for defense.
In a single instant the front was breached. As if waiting for that very moment, the carriage carrying Najin accelerated, and its rear wall shattered.
Craaack!
What emerged after smashing through the carriage wall was Najin. Having bound his body tightly to the carriage with rope, he readjusted his grip on his sword atop the moving vehicle. His eyes locked onto the knight charging from the rear with a lance—Klaus.
Najin's pupils moved rapidly.
Bloodshot eyes calculated Klaus's speed, the distance between them, and the optimal moment. The answer emerged. All that remained was to act. Drawing a fiercely surging aura, Najin kicked off the carriage and leapt.
Thud.
Klaus's charge was a straight line, his attack aimed directly ahead. As was typical of a lance charge, of a mounted charge, suddenly changing direction mid-stride was extremely difficult.
Therefore.
Najin swung his sword from above Klaus's head, straight down toward the crown of his skull. A situation Klaus had not anticipated. A weakness seized at the precise instant. Yet even then Klaus reacted.
Because he was a martial artist of the Sword Seeker level.
With nearly superhuman reaction speed he stamped the ground. He twisted the lance that had been aimed forward and swung it toward Najin. The roughly three-meter lance split and tore the air as it closed in on him.
And Najin—
as if he had been waiting for exactly that—swung his sword with all his strength toward the lance. Najin's aura and the aura coiled around Klaus's lance collided and repelled each other. Naturally, it was Najin, suspended in midair, who was shoved back.
His body floated upward from the rebound.
And in that instant Najin twisted his body in the air and yanked the rope tied around his waist. The rope connected to the carriage snapped taut at the perfect moment and jerked him sharply away.
It was a movement that looked as though he had planned every single step. Najin's disengagement was that smooth.
"Hah."
Watching the sequence, Klaus let out a dry laugh. Originally his role had been to smash the carriage from behind and destroy it. In this single exchange the plan had turned to foam.
The carriage was already racing far ahead, and even if he kicked off the ground again it would be too late. The encirclement they had so carefully built had been broken. Then what of the assault team that was supposed to join him in crushing and sealing the carriage?
They had no leeway after Roselyn Ascalo's attack. The magic they had prepared had been spent defending against her ambush.
The waiting team that was supposed to swarm from the flanks as well······.
Because the carriage had not been smashed—because its speed had actually increased—they lost it. The carriage raced past them through the breached front. And then it left Ahmeti Road, turning in an entirely different direction.
Only then did Klaus understand.
Not only Klaus.
Everyone present understood.
It had been a trap. The enemy had known about the ambush. Staring at the carriage already racing into the distance, Klaus ground his teeth.
"······."
Sword Seekers. The gazes of the commanders present crossed. Their eyes soon turned toward one place. There stood Roselyn Ascalo.
She had torn through the battlefield and broken the front. As if that alone had fulfilled her primary objective, Roselyn had put distance between them and was now cracking her joints, loosening her body. Feeling the stares pouring onto her, she smirked.
"What are you looking at?"
She gave her daggers a casual spin, as if inviting them to come at her whenever they pleased.
But the assailants did not move first. They knew the reason as well.
Roselyn Ascalo was strong. Even among Sword Seekers she was exceptionally strong. No one present could face Roselyn Ascalo alone.
She had climbed one of the three steps toward Sword Master, and she even possessed a Masterpiece. Of course if several of them charged together they could win, but that would consume far too much time.
If time drags on?
Klaus's gaze went to the carriage racing far ahead. Its direction had changed. It had left the road and was heading somewhere completely different from its original destination. They had lost the carriage. The ambush had failed.
Where was that carriage going?
What was it after?
Reinforcements? Or a report of the situation?
Was Roselyn their only support to begin with?
There was no way to know. Anything was possible.
They could not grasp the enemy's purpose. If they let that carriage go, there was no telling how the situation might turn. Now that the ambush had already been exposed, "withdraw" was not an option that existed.
What should we do?
Thoroughly fabricated intelligence. Restricted circumstances. A time limit. All manner of constraints pressed down on them. The limited and manipulated information made them anxious. The moment the thought struck that they had been completely played in the enemy's palm, Klaus ground his teeth.
He had to choose.
A swift decision was required.
"Klaus."
Then someone spoke.
"Pursue with Gerold. We'll handle this place."
The speaker was a man holding twin swords.
Vasaus Malek. A Sword Seeker who had spent long years as a soldier on the battlefield. He stepped toward Roselyn. As he walked he said,
"We'll kill that woman and join you. If we're late, you come join us."
Klaus nodded.
Exchanging glances, Gerold and Klaus kicked off the ground and sprinted. Because they possessed the best mobility present, no one objected to Vasaus's judgment.
Roselyn shrugged her shoulders and let the two who were pursuing the carriage go. Then she looked at the soldier who had stepped in front of her and smirked.
"You're going to kill me?"
"Nothing says I can't."
Vasaus Malek readjusted his grip on his twin swords. Rough aura flared along the blades. Roselyn Ascalo whistled and spun the Masterpiece, Echo, in lazy circles. Aura that resembled the fangs of a beast surged upward.
Vasaus Malek with twin swords.
Tyler Berkaniman with a greatbow.
Sirchel Kravelin with her circles raised.
Three powerhouses of the Sword Seeker level bared their fangs at Roselyn. Even under those gazes she only calmly regulated her breathing.
"What business does the leader of a famous mercenary band have in a place like this?"
At Vasaus's sneer Roselyn laughed.
"You asking because you don't know? There's only one reason a mercenary moves. Money."
Honor rather than freedom.
Gold rather than honor.
Pleasure rather than gold.
Those were the values Roselyn Ascalo held sacred. She still owed Dieta a debt, and Dieta had spent a fortune to place a request with her. A chance to clear the debt while getting paid. There was no reason to refuse.
On top of that, curiosity had stirred.
Curiosity about this situation itself, and about the predicament that brat named Ivan found himself in. Above all, it was similar to something she herself had once experienced. Recalling the past when she had been hunted by those damned Inquisitors, Roselyn's eyes narrowed.
"What are you waiting for, you worthless bastards?"
She twisted the corner of her mouth upward.
"Aren't you gonna come at me?"
Ominous red eyes.
Unlike other crimson eyes, hers swirled with a savage vortex, gleaming like those of a beast.
3.
Najin watched those pursuing the carriage.
The demon hunter gripping a greatsword, Gerold Oton.
The knight who wielded a three-meter lance, Klaus Aten.
And seven Experts following them.
As promised, Roselyn had taken two Sword Seekers. Najin was grateful for that. He still had to face multiple Sword Seekers, yet··· it was not a fight without any chance of victory.
Above all, this was a wall he had to overcome.
The carriage had already entered the forest. A location decided in advance. A stage advantageous to Najin. The carriage advanced through the forest where the sun was setting and darkness beginning to settle. The distance to the pursuers closed by the moment.
Inside the rattling carriage,
Najin steadied his breath.
Then he slowly rose. The wall he had smashed open earlier. He planted his feet firmly on the railing that had been created. Then he cut the rope connecting him to the carriage with his blade.
The distance from Roselyn was now more than enough.
Now it was time for him to stake his life as well.
Najin leapt from the carriage. Leaving him behind, the carriage raced far ahead. At the sudden sight of Najin jumping down, the pursuers frowned. Were there people ambushing here? They briefly halted and scanned the surroundings.
And Najin let his sword hang low.
In the darkening forest, pure white aura stretched from his blade. Only after a short while did the assailants realize there was no one ambushing the place. Here there was only Najin alone.
As if declaring he would face them all by himself, Najin leveled the sword, aura blazing, toward them.
At that sight the assailants let out incredulous laughs. Choosing something like this here? Not even having reached the realm of Sword Seeker, yet intending to face two Sword Seekers and seven Experts alone?
It was madness.
Najin was not unaware of that fact.
Yet he had chosen this method. Najin pulled off his gloves and cast them to the ground. As if requesting a duel. The eyes of the knights mixed among the assailants narrowed.
"Najin."
He pronounced his own name.
"Squire of Ivan, Knight of Atanga."
He declared the only affiliation he yet possessed.
The minimum conditions for a duel were established. Najin readjusted his grip on the sword. In a situation like this a duel was meaningless, yet this was a restriction and an oath he was placing upon himself.
A knight does not flee from a duel.
I will bring every one of you down here.
An oath sworn to himself. From the moment he spoke Ivan's name, this was something that for Najin had to be kept without fail.