The Weight of Waiting
“Damn it!”
Time had passed, and now no living thing remained around me. The dozens of soldiers who had charged with spears and swords, the Grendels summoned from the Gorge of Despair—none of them survived. They had all vanished beneath the sharp jaws of the demon insects, swallowed by screams and agony.
Throughout that cruel, desperate stretch of time, there had been no trace of mercy or compassion in my heart. Not even the pretense of it. Only an unidentifiable rage and irritation swirled around my head, my chest, and the space around me—dark and heavy.
The enemies’ screams, the dwindling lives before my eyes, the primal satisfaction flowing through the demon insects as they fed—none of it brought me any comfort.
I had been certain of victory. I had thwarted the ambush, shattered the trap, and eliminated their only means of counterattack while maintaining a perfect defense.
That was how I had always fought, and it had never failed me. Protect myself, remove risks and variables. That was how I had fought through the Great War.
But what was the result now?
I had not lost, yet I had not won either. I had focused so much on reducing risks and variables—on ensuring my own safety—that I missed the most important objective.
“What you’re doing isn’t real combat. You’re just running away.”
Orcan had often said that while watching me fight. And he was not wrong. Unlike him, I was no warrior. It was not simply because I was a summoner and he was a swordsman.
To Orcan, born of the Eyen tribe—renowned for its valor among the many tribes of the Tumbal Plateau—combat was a single flash of brilliance where one stakes their life and everything they have against any foe. In that moment, both he and his opponent shone brilliantly, and the outcome did not matter.
If the reason for the fight was just and he had given his all, Orcan was the kind of man who would not care even if the result was his own death.
But combat was never that for me. No matter the reason, no matter whether I gave my all or fought fairly or unfairly, combat was nothing more than a means to an end.
That was why my battles always began with my own safety. There was no respect for the opponent, no willingness to stake my life.
That was why he disliked me. My methods were something his beliefs and culture could never accept, and my nature and disposition were nothing like Rowell’s or anyone else’s—and certainly nothing like his.
Yet even so, during the Great War, I had never once thought my methods were wrong, regardless of my true nature. Those methods had kept me alive and contributed to victory.
But in the end, all of that only held true when I was with my companions.
“Damn it!”
A streak of flame shot out at my gesture and lit the surroundings. The fire was too feeble to express what I felt, and the act itself was meaningless, but my hand was already conjuring the next one.
“They moved that many people. They must have prepared horses or some other means of transport nearby…”
I had no way to pursue them now. Even if they had ridden away, I already knew how easily high-ranking assassins could erase or falsify their tracks. And if they had used portable portals or teleportation scrolls, tracking them would be impossible.
Of course, considering the usual cost of portals and teleportation scrolls, that possibility could probably be ruled out—but the High Assassin Guild’s resources and wealth made it far from impossible.
My head spun. Directionless irritation and anger began swirling around me once more.
Having plans go awry and confronting my own limits were both painful, but the most painful thing was that I could not see even a rough direction for a solution, let alone the solution itself.
“If only Medrup were here.”
Medrup would surely have offered a way forward. He would have told me exactly where I needed to go.
“But he is not.”
I had to think. Even if I was hopelessly inadequate at imitating Medrup, even if the moonlight and starlight felt impossibly distant, I had to find my direction now.
And to find direction, I first had to know where I stood.
I knew nothing about the red-haired man. Nothing except that he harbored some kind of madness, that he was far more meticulous than he appeared, and that he was a coward. Even the fragmentary information I had about the High Assassin Guild was probably useless.
What I did know was about Hyler.
He wanted me dead. He must have seen it as revenge for his younger sister and the only way to end his own unbearable pain. And if possible, he would have wanted to witness my end with his own eyes.
I was the one who had burned his sister alive. At the same time, I was one of those who had saved the world. The one who had burned his sister to protect the Hero of Light, Rowell.
I could not begin to imagine the psychological torment he must have felt, but one thing was certain: simply erasing me from the world would never have satisfied him.
This dramatic staging and ambush style was likely the red-haired man’s work, but the choice to set the location here—despite there being better ambush spots and more reliable methods—had probably been Hyler’s decision.
“An emotional, symbolic choice.”
It was the typical reaction of those carrying wounds from the past. Through such symbolic actions and situations, they tried to overwrite or erase their memories, sometimes hoping, as in some religious ritual, that their sins would be purified.
They were bound to the past and wished—consciously or unconsciously—to escape that pain.
“…Right.”
At last, a direction slowly began to take shape before my eyes.
As I had already said, even if this assassination had failed, Hyler would never have fled from me. His goal was not merely my death or revenge for his sister, so the success or failure of the assassination meant nothing to him.
Either way, the ending he envisioned was the same.
Yet the red-haired man had deliberately taken Hyler with him when he fled. It could be called professional courtesy toward a client, but considering what the red-haired man had said, this was not a formal commission through a client.
Hyler had not paid the appropriate fee for this operation, so he was not a formal client. The principle of client protection did not apply, and there was no reason for assassins to feel any obligation to protect him.
Even if Hyler knew some important secret that needed to be kept, it still made no sense. If that were the case, it would have been far easier for them to deal with him on the spot rather than drag him along while retreating.
“Ah!”
In that instant, a ray of light seemed to flash through one corner of my mind, and the darkness in my head slowly began to clear.
If the assassination failed, what they had to worry about was not just my retaliation. Whether they hid in the shadows or took time to prepare their next attack did not matter.
What if I returned and told Rowell? Or told Medrup or Bagloros?
The High Assassin Guild’s reputation was high, and no one knew how far or how high their influence reached, but in the end, they were still just a group of people.
They could not survive making an enemy of the Hero Rowell, the Yellow Sage Medrup, and the world’s strongest assassin Bagloros.
So what did they have to do?
They had to silence me before I could return, no matter what. And that was why they had taken Hyler with them. He was still useful for drawing my attention.
So what was their method?
“Reinforcements? A curse? No, if it were something like that, it wouldn’t take this long.”
Think. It could not be that elaborate a plan. Just how many troops had they lost here? If their strategist had anticipated or intended failure from the beginning, they would never have attempted such a sloppy operation in the first place.
This must have been an unexpected situation for him as well. Yet he still had another method worth trying?
‘I’ve been looking for an opportunity like this myself.’
Those words. And the look that had flashed in his eyes.
“…Another trap. Though it probably wasn’t prepared for me.”
Yes. The red-haired man’s target had never been me. I was merely a stepping stone on the way to his real goal.
“Don’t tell me he’s targeting Rowell? No, that can’t be it.”
Whatever the target was, it did not matter. If there was another trap, they would not bother erasing their tracks. In fact, they would deliberately leave them. So all I had to do was follow those tracks.
But not right now.
I took out the crystal from my pocket. It was not just because all the equipped barriers had disappeared. After summoning Neapis Naka Honus and then controlling the demon insects in my rage, my mind had already reached its limit.
I really needed to rest now. I did not know exactly what kind of trap they had prepared, but since I had never been the target from the beginning, it was clearly far more dangerous than this sloppy ambush.
While holding the bag, I recited a few words, and I found myself in Denatel’s Library.
“……!”
But something was wrong. The moment I arrived, an unnatural mana fluctuation shook the entire space. And that was not all. The beast ornaments serving as the barrier’s medium and the fifth crystal serving as the energy source were emitting light as if they were about to burst.
“What… what is this?”
I hurriedly looked toward where she was and saw dark red flames filling the barrier that confined her, raging with red lightning as if trying to break it at any moment.
I knew those flames and lightning. That dark red fire was the very reason she had held the title of Flame Demon Commander, and the lightning was proof that she was drawing out all of her power.
“R-Rofena, what on earth are you doing!”
I instinctively tried to raise my mana, but I knew better than anyone that it would be useless. It was not just because the equipped barriers were gone. She was the Flame Demon Commander. Any summon I could call, even Morotai, would not buy me even a moment against her.
Except for one single spell.
But then she suddenly withdrew the flames and lightning.
“You… you…?”
Having stopped spewing black flames and lightning, she stared down at my face for a long time with an expression as if her soul had left her body. And I looked back at her in tension. Then, suddenly, a single tear rolled down her cheek.
“You were alive.”
With those words, she sank to the floor.
“Thank goodness. Thank goodness.”
Seeing her muttering like that while sitting on the floor made my head spin. I could not understand what was happening.
It was clear she had tried to break the barrier. And there was no doubt that the situation had been genuinely dangerous just moments ago. But why had she suddenly stopped?
The escape attempt itself was not strange. If anything, the fact that she had never tried before was stranger. But why stop now? I had no ability to stop her. What reason could there possibly be for her to give up just because I had appeared?
Somewhere in the corner of my mind, somewhere in my chest, a foolish hope tried to raise its head, but I forced myself to ignore it.
I could not start from there. I could not treat that excessive hope as fact. Even if she herself believed it to be genuine, it would never be real.
“Rofena, are you all right?”
I approached her carefully. The barrier was quickly stabilizing, and I knew she had no way to break it right now. This was not fear of her. It was because of the emotion shaking my heart and mind.
But the moment I drew close, she suddenly spewed flames. Bright red fire spread like lightning across the inside of the barrier, and the emotion carried by those flames made me flinch involuntarily.
“You…!”
Even as tears streamed down her face, she was glaring at me.
“…What the hell did you do!”