Midnight Assault
I'd been trying to figure out who the hell this bastard was—the one who attacked me while I was sleeping—but unfortunately, he was wearing a mask.
Balun immediately reached out to rip it off, but sadly, he failed.
The masked figure, hanging from the ceiling, kicked him hard in the gut with all their strength.
It didn't hurt much. But it did succeed in prying loose the hand gripping their flesh.
Balun flopped face-first onto the floor, and right away, the masked figure landed and thrust a dagger at him.
"Eek!"
Balun rolled away while still lying down. He felt the splintered wooden floor scraping his back.
Ah, if I'd known, I would've slept with my clothes on.
Wincing at the dull pain, Balun kept rolling around the room. The dagger thudded softly into the wooden floor over and over.
He wanted to get up, but there was no opening. In the pitch-black room, the enemy's short blade glinted in the moonlight, aimed at his life.
That gleam let Balun pinpoint the attacker's position.
Now.
The dagger stabbed down. Balun shot out his hand and grabbed the masked figure's right wrist—the one holding the dagger.
Startled, they let out a short groan.
The masked figure strained to pull their arm free. But Balun's grip on their wrist was like a rock—it didn't budge an inch.
Balun tried to twist the wrist. But before he could, the figure made some kind of gesture first.
They puffed out both cheeks, gathering air.
What the? Is this some cutesy act?
The absurd thought flashed through his mind, but obviously, that couldn't be it.
Sensing some trick, Balun acted fast. He kicked the figure's foot hard with his own.
"Guhk!"
The masked figure groaned and flew back, slamming into the wall. Their puffed cheeks burst open, spraying some powdery substance into the air.
Balun's face twisted in disgust. What the hell was that?
Poison or something?
It sure looked like an attack. Poison, sleep powder—whatever it was, it screamed dirty trick.
Balun hurriedly grabbed the bedsheets with both hands and fanned them away. The powder scattered from around him and settled softly on the floor.
A tense standoff in the darkness. A brief battle of nerves.
"What?"
"……."
"Why attack me?"
No answer. They clearly weren't going to talk, so Balun didn't bother asking more.
Beat 'em down first, then interrogate.
Silence stretched. The masked figure glared murderously, dagger at the ready. Balun quickly scanned the room.
Looking for his axes. Luckily, they weren't far. The two-handed axe leaned against the window, and the hand axes sat on the shelf above it.
Should've kept an axe by the bed. Could've split their skull already.
Too late for regrets now. How could he have known? Getting ambushed in his sleep? Even Balun had no experience with that.
Barbarians didn't sneak-attack sleeping people, at least.
Balun watched for an opening, then twisted and snatched a hand axe.
Now he felt secure. An axe in hand was the way to be.
Defeat flickered in the masked figure's eyes. They'd clearly tried to keep him from his weapons. But now they couldn't approach recklessly.
They knew the strength gap was massive. Get grabbed again, and it was over. That's why they were just staring him down.
But why's it so quiet? This should've woken everyone.
Who knows. Deal with this one first.
As Balun stepped forward confidently, his eyes widened.
What had he just seen? The figure's form was fading. Like an eraser smudging the edges, the silhouette separating human from shadow melted into the darkness.
What the hell...
In this dire moment, Balun rubbed his eyes. Dream or reality?
Cloaking or some shit?
The figure vanished. Something blurry moved, but pinpointing it? Impossible. Balun nearly fainted from shock.
No way. Superpowers? Come on.
Then, a glint in the dark. Moonlight on a blade.
"Gasp!"
Balun hurled himself aside. Barely dodging, he yelled,
"That's cheating! Superpower hack!"
Did superpowers even exist? Weren't they fake? But in a world with monsters, why not?
The blade flashed relentlessly. Balun dodged with animal reflexes, reacting to the moonlight glints alone.
His movements bordered on divine, but the situation sucked. How do you fight an invisible stabber?
This way, he'd lose eventually.
Bolt? Bust out the door and run... Nah. If they're blocking it, I'm dead.
And even if he escaped, they'd chase. A guy who could turn invisible—what guarantee he wouldn't kill later?
Balun's instincts, honed by over a hundred battles in his 16 years, screamed.
Kill this freak now. Regret later otherwise.
Barbarians taught him: attack is the best defense.
He hated it personally, but sometimes it was the only way. Like now.
But how? Invisible enemy?
Wait. Invisible doesn't mean intangible. They're still in this room.
Good idea. Balun's eyes darted. He spotted the discarded blanket.
Dodging another blade, he scooped it up and hurled it forward.
The blanket hit something mid-air and slid to the floor.
Balun's eyes lit up.
There!
He slammed his axe precisely where it struck.
Squelch!
"Hngh!"
Gotcha!
Balun grinned. The hit connected. He felt the blade sink in.
Shh... The faded form sharpened again. The weird power broke.
"Cheater-smashing punch!"
Balun bellowed and drove his left fist into the face.
Thwack!
The masked figure stiffened from the jaw hit and collapsed with a thud.
Balun pressed a hand to his chest. His heart pounded wildly.
He hadn't realized how tense he'd been.
Sighing, he sat on the bed and fiddled with his necklace. It'd stopped trembling completely.
This thing really saved my life...
If he met Ulan again, he'd say thanks. It kept him alive.
But what was it? Why'd it vibrate?
Questions aside, he approached the figure and yanked off the mask.
A pretty woman's face appeared. The kind that could charm men, but Balun tsked instead of swooning.
Someone this normal trying to stab him at night? People were unpredictable.
The world was dangerous. He needed to get stronger.
"Hey, wake up."
Balun shook her. No response.
He glanced around. Nothing to wake her? Slapping her cheeks didn't work.
His eyes landed on the shelf. A leather waterskin.
He grabbed it, uncorked, and dumped it on her.
She jolted awake at the cold water.
"Ugh..."
Balun held his axe to her throat.
"Woman. Answer my questions."
"……."
"Why attack me?"
No answer. Balun slapped her hard.
"Asking again. Why?"
Silence. Balun didn't wait long. He swung the hand axe down.
Blood sprayed. Her pinky finger severed.
She screamed shrilly.
"Kyaaak!"
"Why? No answer, next one goes. Fingers first. Then toes. You'll be just a torso. My bowling pin."
No reply. Balun raised the axe.
Then she cracked.
"H-He ordered it!"
"Who?"
"Master! Master!"
Master? Balun raised the axe higher.
"Simple words."
"Viper Guild Master, Jackson! Please spare me... sob!"
"More."
"W-Well..."
She spilled everything. Balun memorized every word.
* * *
One odd thing during the midnight fight: why was the inn so quiet?
Not out in a field—they'd wrecked the second floor of a wooden building. Should've been noisy as hell.
Balun, half-panicked, heard the creaks and thuds. Peaceful sleepers? It must've been deafening.
Reason: sleeping potion in the stew pot. The big kitchen cauldron.
Guests were out cold.
It came out at dawn. Bloodstains everywhere, furniture trashed.
Balun's room? Total wreck.
"You didn't know?"
"No, sir. Totally zonked out. Closed my eyes, opened them—morning. Really happened?"
"Yes."
"No way..."
Barrel and his men all acted shocked.
"Barrel. You said no trouble here. Lie."
"Pardon? Oh, well..."
"Take responsibility."
Balun feigned anger. Barrel paled, flailing.
"Ugh, you shouldn't get mad normally... My mistake. Truly sorry!"
"Sorry not enough. Responsibility. Happy! No responsibility, die!"
"How? This maybe?"
Barrel flashed coins slyly.
Balun nodded.
"Excellent!"
Barrel slipped him two gold coins, tsking inwardly.
What barbarian was this sharp with money? First one ever.
"Viper guys like you more than I thought."
"Want me as slave."
"Yes."
"Rip-kill bastards."
Pure rage. Nearly died asleep—who wouldn't be pissed?
Hold back? That's sainthood. Balun wasn't a saint.
If he were, he wouldn't survive barbarians. Coward or not.
Wanna crush 'em... but can I?
He'd pondered since morning. Crush Viper? Even if not, make 'em back off.
Or they'd keep coming.
Just follow Barrel? Nah. Die in debt hell. Capital rent's insane.
Money death or stab death. Same end. Choice differed.
First: slow agony. Second: quick certainty.
Balun preferred the latter.
"Handle it. Stab hell!"
"Pardon?"
"Barrel. Rookie thug base. Say."
"You mean... Viper hideout."
"Yes."
No best choice? Pick lesser evil.
* * *
Time till Barrel's group left. Borrowed more help.
Prepped gear, memorized Viper base location.
Practiced mentally. Simulations: entry, one-vs-many fights, escape routes if desperate.
Balun's habit for big battles.
Whew, prep done.
Afternoon, post-departure. Balun packed: two-handers, two hand axes, three daggers, wrist buckler, thick rope...
And the leather sack with the assassin's head.
All set, he headed to Viper base.
Northwest slums of Milford.
Let's do it. What's scary? Beat worse.
Deep breath. Balun strode into the alley.
Two guys leaning there squinted at him.
"What’s this bulk?"
"Scram, unless you wanna die."
They shooed like flies. Balun stepped up regardless.
His massive build made them flinch.
"Wh-what, wanna fight?"
"Move. Or die."
"Wh-what'd you say? Ha! This punk..."
Crack!
"Arrrgh!"
Left guy's scream tore his throat. Balun grabbed and snapped his right arm.
"F-fuck! You dare Viper...!"
"Move, live."
Right guy backed off, scared. Then more rushed in—drawn by the scream.
"What!"
"What's goin'—gasp!"
Balun eyed them coolly. All armed.
Shit, tons.
Heart racing. Peak tension.
Shouldn't came. Follow Barrel quiet-like.
Regret too late.
"Who you?"
"……."
"No answer?"
Not refusing. Couldn't. Mind blank.
Half-day prep? Gone.
Practice worthless.
Damn, forgot. Had plan.
Screw it. Instinct time.
Opened left-hand sack, dumped it ground-hard.
Bloody head rolled out.
Vipers gasped. Everyone knew her face.
Jackson's favorite rogue.
"Move. See boss."
"No?"
"All die. Move, live."
Balun glared. Front guy—leader?—eyed his gaze, thick arms, axes. Sighed long.
"Knew it'd come. Told 'em no."
"……."
"Make way."
"Huh? What, bro?!"
"Way."
Glare parted the alley like waves.
Balun walked through without hesitation.
No one knew. This picture of bold warrior was one sob from tears.