Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Because It's the Borderlands
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“Hey.”
As the end of the alley came into view, the assassins made their move. They stopped shadowing quietly and revealed their presence. Just a few more steps and they’d reach the main street, so this narrow, dark spot was ideal for killing someone.
“Ian?”
“Do you know me?”
Ssssh!
The moment they confirmed their target, the conspirators drew their swords and charged. With their faces and bodies completely shrouded in black hoods, they looked like shadows lunging forward.
Clang! Clang!
Berik reflexively drew his sword to meet them. The clash was so fierce that sparks flew from the blades in an instant—a testament to the attackers putting everything they had into it.
Ssssh!
And that meant they already knew Berik’s skill level. They knew full well that if they couldn’t take him down in one strike, they had no chance.
Three or four kept Berik pinned down while the remaining one thrust his sword in. Their attacks targeted his cheek, nape, and side without letup.
“Huh?”
A struggle ensued as sword met sword and each tried to push the other back. Berik hadn’t unleashed his Sword-Mage strength, yet his opponent was shoving with considerable force.
Ian, watching from the side, backed away while assessing the situation. The way he gripped his sword, the way he maintained distance from his foe—it was no amateur stuff. This was the trained movement of someone who’d undergone systematic instruction, not some raw street brawler.
From the looks of it, they were highly likely connected directly to Molin.
“Berik! That one! Yeah, don’t kill that one!”
“What if I don’t? Should I just cut off an arm?”
“Do what you think is...”
“Arghhh!”
As he spoke, Berik jammed his sword into the thigh of one of the small fry.
‘But it’s strange. If they know Berik’s skills, they must also know I’m a Mana User.’
No one was coming for Ian. Molin, who knew the power of mana better than anyone, wouldn’t just leave the target—and obstacle—that was Ian alone.
Swish.
At that moment, countless shadows stretched long behind Ian. More than a dozen armed thugs were entering the alley from the main road.
“Ha. Yeah, figures.”
More than I thought. They came prepared.
Ian tried to gauge the enemy by eye, but the darkness made it tough. As they drew their swords, Ian retreated with a grin.
“You’re all working hard in the middle of the night.”
“Shut your mouth. You’re Ian, right?”
“Yeah. That’s me, Ian.”
He could guess why it had taken time from planning the assassination to execution. Not just lack of opportunity, but gathering this many people.
Ziiing.
Ian opened his Golden Eyes. Mana swirled, creating a subtle warm breeze, and those seeing a mage for the first time in their lives froze in shock.
But only for a moment.
Confident in their overwhelming numbers, they closed in.
“Aren’t you all scared? Why do something like this?”
“Shut up! Hand over your life already.”
“Do you even know how much money’s on your head?”
In truth, even after rigorous training to earn the title of mage, a Mana User had almost no useful spells. Mana merely resonated with mana; he was still far from the glory that had once turned the world upside down.
“Die!”
Ssssh!
Clang!
The man in front charged first. Ian drew his sword as well, swinging his arm wide to deflect the attack sideways. At the same time, he grabbed the man’s face squarely with his left hand.
“Wha—”
Ziiing!
Then he poured in mana with all his might. Just like he’d done to Berik in the training grounds, an invisible force flooded into the man’s core.
“Guh, guh...”
The man staggered back, and the thugs hesitated for a moment. Blood streamed from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears—every orifice. When he wiped his face, his hands shook in panic.
‘Not good enough.’
Ian glanced down at his hand and frowned slightly. It wasn’t something he used often, but it was supposed to be an easy attack spell. Normally, the man’s head would have exploded.
“Wh-what the—”
“Idiot! Stab him already instead of standing there like a moron!”
“You all seem to know each other well.”
“A guy about to die doesn’t need to know that!”
Their crude, vulgar speech suggested they weren’t from the imperial palace. Looked like commoners—maybe from Bratz?
While Ian pondered, the thugs shoved the bloodied man aside and charged all at once.
“Yaaah!”
Slash!
In an instant, flashing blades appeared before them. It was Berik. He’d beaten down the ones clinging to him and rushed over. Blood dripped from his hair. Looking back, the ground was flooded with blood—all from the thugs.
“I’m so sleepy, but these fuckers make me exercise under the moonlight?”
“Berik, did you kill them?”
“Dunno. Just stabbed ’em.”
“...Berik. Just in case, leave one alive. Please.”
If they weren’t Bratz locals, he needed to know where they came from. Cooperating with Molin meant they were obstacles to Ian.
Ziiing.
Ian gave the order while grabbing Berik’s shoulder. Blood-soaked hair fluttered in the night breeze, and Berik’s vitality began to return. The clouds hiding the moon dispersed, brightening the surroundings bit by bit.
“Haa... Am I tired? I’m gonna snort some booster today.”
“You could phrase it differently, you know.”
“Get out of the way!! Fuck!!”
Boom!
Berik’s weary voice tore through the air. At the same time, someone’s head flew back.
Slash!
It happened so fast that even as blood spurted from his neck, the thugs stood dazed. The speed was beyond what reality could register.
“U-u-ughhh!”
“K-kill him!”
“Forward, forward!”
“Don’t push, damn it!”
Berik leaped up the wall, swinging his sword. Screams scattered everywhere, impossible to tell whose they were. Some tried to reach Ian while avoiding him, but Ian parried them with his sword in defensive stance.
Slash!
It wasn’t human movement. Amid the barrage of blades from all sides, he was grazed but gave no openings. He deflected reflexively, thrust, slashed...
“Arghhh!”
“Damn it! Aaaah!”
Narrow alley. It should have been fatally disadvantageous to Berik, but reality was the opposite. In a space where a slight swing hit someone’s vital spot, the alley meant that for Berik.
“Haa...”
And soon after. Piles of corpses like mountains, pools of blood. Berik was drenched red everywhere except his eyes.
“I said leave one alive.”
“This one’s alive. Twitching and all.”
Berik poked the back of someone’s head with his sword tip. Then he grinned and clenched his fist.
“Uwa! Feels so gooood!”
It was a different thrill from defeating a strong opponent. The sensation of slaughter from overwhelming power difference. Sometimes, this was better than fierce, desperate battles. Like junk food for the blade—Berik savored just that much joy.
“Refreshing! Invigorating! Exhilarating! Haha!”
‘He’s insane.’
Ian left the raving Berik alone and approached the first group. He pulled off their hoods one by one to check their faces.
Among them, a man groaning. The one Ian had said to spare. Feeling his upper body, well-built muscles confirmed it. A man who lived by his body.
“His face looks kinda familiar...”
“Yeah? Lemme see.”
“Don’t you think we’ve seen him around?”
“Hmm. Not sure. Ugly, though.”
The man groaned, his left hand twitching. Then he brought his palm to his cheek, as if covering it. Ian thought it meaningless thrashing from a dying man.
He assumed it was just a futile attempt to hide his face...
“Arghhhh!”
“Wh-what? What’s with him?”
“Damn it!”
A ring on the man’s left middle finger. It must have been a suicide tool with a hidden poison needle.
The man shuddered violently, screaming in agony. Ian reflexively grabbed his arm, but it was too late. All he could do was stuff cloth into the man’s mouth as a stopgap.
“Guh...”
“Eww, his face tastes nasty now?”
Even Berik, who rarely flinched, stepped back muttering. Necrosis spread rapidly from the needle prick. Flesh sloughed off, his features turning horrific. Even his parents wouldn’t recognize him now.
“Take that survivor and this guy back to the mansion. Go call for people.”
He’d ruined the face to completely hide the man’s identity. Meaning the man had led this himself. If his identity became a mystery, Molin would be safe.
Then Berik nudged the guy’s side with his foot.
“Want me to carry him? He’s heavy, so maybe chop some off.”
“Berik.”
“Kidding. Kidding.”
No room to step toward the main road amid the corpse piles. Berik waded through them slyly, and soon the guards’ lanterns—deliberately dark for days—lit up.
* * *
“Did they get him?”
Mac, anxiously peering out the window, couldn’t hold back and chugged his wine. He ignored the liquor dribbling down his chin.
“Over ten of them. In that narrow alley, even a graze means over a dozen wounds. No way he survives.”
Drgor, silent on the sofa, replied. Even if they failed, their subordinate Petreio would never botch the cleanup. With poison needles that melted faces, any link to them and Molin’s group would stay buried forever.
“What if they fail?”
“Mac. You’re too anxious.”
“This is planning ahead!”
Bang!
Mac slammed the table irritably. Molin glared at him to hold back.
“You trying to wake all the servants?”
“S-sorry, sir.”
“Petreio’s highly skilled. Sure, he’s older, but he was once captain of Prince Marib’s direct imperial guard. And above all, he’s loyal—no betrayal there. You know that, I know that.”
Just two greenhorns.
He’d heard Berik was exceptional, but Molin took it as hearsay. Ian was a Mana User, sure, but only sixteen now. His limits were clear.
“A Mana User can only pour out mana a couple times. Against over a dozen grown men, he’d collapse first.”
“And even if—really even if—they fail, they can’t touch us without evidence. If we die, an investigation team comes again.”
That was the last thing they wanted. Mac finally calmed, bowing his head in apology.
“Sorry. I... I got a bit worked up.”
That was when it happened.
Thud thud! Thud thud thud!
Someone pounded roughly on the door. All three men froze stiff and swallowed hard. In the dead of night, only two people would come for them.
Petreio, mission success.
Or...
“Wh-who...”
Creak.
Red hair visible through the door crack. Covered in blood—or was it flayed skin?—his whole body was bright red. Berik wiped his face and smiled.
“...Waiting for a guy named Petreio?”
“What the...”
Molin shot up in shock without thinking.
“All of you, come out just like that.”
“Wh-what insolence is this!”
Sling.
Berik answered their shouts by drawing his sword. He pointed it at Drgor’s throat and closed in like he’d slice him any second.
“Ian said to chop if you want.”
“You lowly cur! We came from the imperial palace...”
“I know. But this is the borderlands.”
The borderlands.
A place that opened up so many possibilities.
“They don’t care about that stuff out here. Ian says.”