The Chimera's Master
But nothing could truly harm Bagloros. No matter how elite the assassins were, they specialized in taking lives rather than winning fair fights.
Unlike swordsmen who honed overwhelming swordsmanship to kill other swordsmen or risked their lives in duels to strike vital points, assassins only needed to graze their target once with a poisoned blade.
Deception, trickery, poisons, curses—these irregular methods were an assassin’s true specialty. Their fundamentals were never superior.
Yet poisons and ordinary vital points meant nothing to the chimera Bagloros. He had long grown accustomed to the assassins’ usual tricks and feints.
In the end, the only option left to the assassins was a contest of pure skill.
Even so, the top-tier assassins who had reached their rank possessed fundamentals that were by no means inferior to skilled swordsmen or other experts. However, that was only when compared to ordinary geniuses. Against Bagloros, they stood no chance.
Soon, five of the seven remaining top assassins fell. The last two, along with the mid-tier assassins, abandoned their contracts, reputations, and guild rules, fleeing in sheer terror.
It was not fear of death itself, but a vague dread of the abnormal, alien reality unfolding before their eyes.
“I fled in disgrace as well. Even in the middle of enemy territory, I paid no mind to being seen or heard. I simply ran with everything I had.”
Raze considered it fortunate that habit and the last shreds of reason had scattered them in different directions. Bagloros’s orders were only to protect the target. He had prioritized the two top assassins who could still pose a threat, then chased only the nearest mid-tier assassins. He never pursued so far that he left the client behind.
“Later I learned that only I and two other mid-tier assassins made it back alive. One left the guild. The other died on a mission.”
Raze rose from his seat and took one step closer to Bagloros. Now he stood directly above him. Without hesitation, he kicked Bagloros.
“……”
The blow landed hard enough to echo, yet Bagloros did not so much as twitch. Raze’s kicks did not stop.
“Once I realized the man I saw that day was you, your name never left my mind. That overwhelming power. That wondrous realm I could never reach. And on top of it all, you saved the world alongside the hero.”
A sharp killing intent flooded the room. Raze’s full-powered kick struck Bagloros’s head. With a dull thud, even Bagloros staggered slightly for the first time.
“I truly hated it.”
Madness flickered in his eyes alongside the cold killing intent. His breathing grew ragged for a moment, but he soon turned away, returned to his chair, and sat down. Then he smiled, playfully rubbing his leg.
“Whew, you really are something. My leg hurts from kicking you.”
His exaggerated gesture was comical, yet his eyes still shimmered with madness and killing intent.
“…It’s unpleasant. The strongest assassin. A hero who saved the world. And when you look closely, he’s nothing but a chimera that follows orders. It’s a comedy, isn’t it?”
Raze continued to ramble, his words a mix of madness and exaggeration, but Bagloros remained perfectly still. His eyes did not even look at Raze. He seemed so lifeless that one might mistake him for a mere doll or statue.
“But look. Now you follow my commands. That overwhelming power, that unreachable wonder—everything is beneath me.”
A satisfied smile spread across Raze’s face, as if the earlier frenzy had been a lie. The faint madness in his eyes remained, yet his smile held no trace of exaggeration.
“I am the strongest assassin! No, not just the strongest assassin. By commanding you, I stand above your companions who are revered as heroes. Yes. I stand higher than the hero, the sage, the saint—everyone they worship!”
It was an inferiority complex toward the truly gifted. Hatred for those he could never equal. And rage at whatever had made him feel this way.
The emotion had grown twisted and grotesque within Raze’s own madness, and now it was blooming.
“First, I’ll deal with that unpleasant summoner. For now, I have to keep acting obedient in front of that arrogant fool. But once I find out where he’s keeping that crazy old man……”
Drunk on his own words and plans, Raze kept muttering. The more he spoke, the wider his smile grew and the deeper the madness in his eyes became. What he failed to notice in his excitement was that Bagloros, who had not moved until now, had twitched ever so slightly the moment Raze mentioned his companions.
* * *
Peltecheru was a city built to honor three cities that had been reduced to irreparable ruins by the Demon Swarm Legion during the Great War. Survivors from each city gathered in the area between the three ruins and founded it in memory of their lost homelands. It still lacked proper ramparts or even walls, surrounded only by cultivated fields, mills, and workshops. Yet among the cities founded after the war, it was growing faster than any other.
This was partly due to the residents’ desperate desire to restore their homelands as quickly as possible, and partly because the noble houses and kingdoms that once ruled the surrounding regions had collapsed, leaving almost no noble influence.
Though they received no support from nobles or royalty, they were also free from noble interference and restrictions. Capitalists of various classes gradually gathered, and their wealth became a powerful driving force behind the city’s early construction.
The phenomenon only accelerated as the city grew. More and more capitalists arrived upon hearing of its reputation, and their capital fueled rapid development. It was no exaggeration to say that after only a few days away, the streetscape would change, and new buildings would appear in places that had been empty moments before.
“This should be the place, right?”
Anak, however, knew none of this. He had never even heard of Peltecheru, let alone its exact location.
He had followed the map he bought in Deshlang and Bagloros’s directions, but neither he nor Erill was familiar with the local geography. The map had been drawn with walking distances in mind, so flying had thrown off his sense of scale.
Since this was the only city visible in the area, he had landed, but now he could only hope he had not come to the wrong place.
“Erill, stay nearby for now. I’ll call you when it’s over.”
At Anak’s words, Erill let out a low cry and flapped her wings lightly.
“Yeah, yeah. Maracas fruit and the liquor made from it. If I can get any over there, I’ll definitely bring some back.”
After receiving several promises from Anak, Erill soared into the sky.
“Well then, how do I get all the way over there?”
Anak smiled wryly at the distant city. It was already late, so he had landed as close as possible, but the city was surrounded by farmland. Even following the road would mean a long walk.
Anak first summoned a sphere of light above his hand. There were no walls, yet one could not simply enter the city from anywhere. The height difference between the city and the fields was one obstacle, and most of the outer areas away from the main roads were occupied by buildings. Even if gaps existed, they were private property.
Unless he intended to cross someone’s front yard in the middle of the night, he had to use the main road, where guards would naturally be posted. Walking around without a light at this hour would only look more suspicious, so it was wiser to announce his presence to the guards first.
Anak walked along the main road between the fields for quite some time. When he finally reached the city entrance, the waiting guards greeted him.
“Good evening.”
Anak was somewhat surprised by the guards’ attitude, so different from those in Deshlang. They were polite without being overbearing, and surprisingly friendly despite the late hour.
This was thanks to the city’s origins. Although founded by survivors of the three cities, Peltecheru had essentially been built by immigrants. While nobles existed, most held only nominal titles or were on the same level as the capitalists. There were no powerful noble houses.
The guards were not the lord’s private soldiers but civilian auxiliaries funded by the city council. Naturally distant from authority, they were friendly toward travelers and visitors.
“What brings you to Peltecheru?”
“Ah, I’m a mage traveling through the area.”
He introduced himself as a mage because summoners were still not viewed favorably in certain regions and among certain people.
“I got separated from my companions during the journey and thought they might have stopped here. Ah, this is my transit pass.”
Anak showed his transit crystal. The crest floated in the air. The guards studied it with curious expressions before stepping aside.
“Actually, Peltecheru no longer uses royal transit crests. Still, anyone carrying one must have solid credentials.”
They no longer used royal transit crests. Anak was quite surprised by this new information. It was essentially a declaration of independence, almost a founding proclamation. Although city-states and republics had existed before and still did, making such a move in the current unstable world climate seemed rather hasty.
‘No, perhaps it’s precisely because the world situation is unstable.’
Anak soon shook his head. The world was indeed unstable, which was exactly why no kingdom or empire would act recklessly. In a situation where one could not predict how other nations would respond, hasty action could invite disaster.
Yet for small nations, this might actually be the best opportunity.
“There are no other cities or villages nearby, so your companions are probably here as well. If you head right, you’ll find inns for travelers. I suggest checking there first.”
Anak smiled at the guard’s kind directions and stepped into the city. It was late, so the streets were empty, but the occasional streetlamp lit the way, so he was unlikely to get lost.
“Oh?”
The intricately crafted streetlamps left quite an impression on Anak as well. Three different patterns alternated along the poles, and the roof above the light fixture was carved with what looked like bird wings in fine detail.
Of course, carving specific designs or sculptures into lampposts served only aesthetic purposes and had no practical value.
Even if mass-produced in large workshops, they would be expensive and time-consuming to make. The more intricate they were, the harder they were to maintain. A little dirt would ruin their meaning entirely.
That was why such things were usually installed only in capitals, wealthy trading cities, or tourist destinations where city aesthetics mattered. Anak had never expected to see them in a newly founded city after the war.
New cities, and even famous metropolises, spent most of their budgets on reconstruction and subsidies. Spending money on things that only looked nice was considered a luxury to be avoided. To him, the sight was beyond strange—it was incomprehensible.
“Does that mean they have that much money? Even though this small city hasn’t even built walls yet?”
Of course, even Peltecheru, with its influx of capitalists, did not have an overflow of capital.
However, the residents longed for their lost homelands and wanted their new home to become as grand and magnificent as the old ones. What they desired was to feel the same pride as before, even if it meant skipping a meal, and to wash away the scars of the Great War completely.
Since aesthetic extravagance in public works was the easiest and fastest way to satisfy that longing, the city council had gone ahead with it.
While some ordinary residents and council members opposed it, they were a minority compared to public opinion. Especially among the capitalists and upper classes who funded most of the city’s operations, there was not a single voice of dissent.
“No wonder the branches are fighting over territory.”
Anak soon looked away from the streetlamps and headed in the direction the guard had indicated. Even as he walked, he kept an eye on the shadows between buildings, wondering if Bagloros might suddenly appear.
Before long, he reached the street lined with inns and lodgings, just as the guard had said. There were many of them, but each was rather small.
“Hmm.”
After a quick look, Anak passed the nearest inn without stopping. It was not particularly old, but the red signboard and the oddly suggestive name made it seem as though lodging was not its main business.
He walked past several shabby-looking inns and one whose door was inexplicably locked before entering another.
“Ah, welcome.”
A man who had been dozing inside hurriedly stood up to greet him.
“Are you alone?”
He looked quite young. From his demeanor, Anak guessed he was the owner’s family rather than an employee or the owner himself. He was still half-asleep, blinking repeatedly.
“Yes. I’ll probably need to stay a few days. Do you have a good room?”
The young man quickly looked Anak up and down, trying to be discreet, but Anak had already anticipated the scrutiny. After seeing the clothes Anak wore, the young man’s eyes lit up as if he had finally woken up, and he placed the key to the best room on the counter.
“Twelve pel a day, including breakfast and dinner. If you stay more than two nights, tonight’s room fee is on the house.”
“Twelve pel, huh.”
Anak thought the price was rather high for the quality of the inn. Judging by the lobby, the rooms were unlikely to be particularly good, and the dining area looked cramped. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was worth the cost.
“Very well.”
Still, Anak took twenty-four pel coins from his pocket and handed them over. Even if he did not actually need to stay, he needed to create a place where Bagloros could find him.
“Thank you. You can use the room on the third floor.”
Anak took the key and headed for the stairs. After climbing a few steps, he suddenly turned back to the young man.
“Do I have to come down to eat?”
“We can bring it to your room if you prefer. How would you like it?”
“Bringing it up would be nice, but you might find me asleep, so please knock first. If I answer, then bring it in.”
“Understood. Rest well.”
The young man sat back down and began dozing again. Anak glanced at him for a moment before continuing up to the third floor. He had no luggage, so it did not matter much, but the memory of the boy at the Deshlang inn who had personally escorted him to his room suddenly came to mind.
“Here it is.”
Unlike the second floor, which had several rooms connected by a hallway, the third floor had only a single door at the end of the stairs. Anak unlocked it and stepped inside. The entire third floor was one large room. Candle holders lined the walls, but Anak simply created a sphere of light and floated it in the air.
“Not bad.”
The room contained a bathroom and toilet, a dining table, other furniture, and even a small bookshelf packed with books.
The decorations were far more luxurious than he had expected. For a brief moment, Anak almost felt as though he were in a mansion. However, the cleaning had not been very thorough; dust had gathered on the window frames and in the corners of the furniture.
“I might as well get some sleep.”
Anak considered visiting Rofena, but soon shook his head. After what had happened that morning, he was not yet ready to face her, and he admitted as much to himself. He also added the possibility that Bagloros might arrive as another reason.
Anak went to the bathroom, washed up briefly, and lay down on the bed.
“Ah!”
Just as drowsiness began to pull him under and he was about to extinguish the light sphere and close his eyes, he suddenly sat up. He had remembered that he had not reinforced the installed barrier, and the image of Bagloros waking him a few days ago flashed through his mind.
“Well, there are still five layers left, but……”
Anak got up, deactivated the installed barrier he had already set, and began layering it again one by one.