Chapter 5 — How to Face an Ambush
Bayul and his friends all but fled the mansion. Even after climbing into the carriage, Bayul kept glancing nervously back over his shoulder, half-convinced the Chairman might come after them.
"He's not coming. Sometimes my threats actually work, you know."
Eli said it as if to reassure him, but the man had left such an overwhelming impression that Bayul couldn't quite bring himself to relax.
"More importantly, Rai—that thing you said earlier. You didn't mean it, right?"
"Which thing?"
"Dropping out of the Academy. That was just talk, wasn't it?"
Bayul had never once been able to imagine the Academy without Eli in it. He couldn't speak for the others, but to Bayul, Eli was something special.
It was Eli who had first reached out a hand when Bayul arrived here, hunted and half-lost. It was Eli who, without a trace of annoyance, had taught everything to a clueless, bumbling boy who knew nothing at all. Because of him, Bayul had managed to settle into Academy life. Because of him, Bayul had come to love Carrington.
"No, I meant it."
"...What?"
"In that moment, I meant every word. If that bastard pushes my buttons again, I can't promise what I'll do."
He would not be toyed with any longer. From the moment he'd decided to run away, Eli had resolved to live on his own terms. He no longer needed the man's protection.
"Honestly, avoiding him as much as possible does seem like the healthiest option."
At Quinn's blunt assessment, Eli snorted.
"I'm a master at giving people illnesses they never had. In that field, I doubt anyone could rival me."
"Next time I meet the Chairman, I'm not asking him anything about spirits."
"Finally giving up on that, huh?"
"There won't be a next time."
One careless remark spiraling into a mess like this—that was a loss only they suffered.
"Good decision."
Eli applauded Quinn's swift capitulation without a hint of irony.
"So, where are we headed, anyway?"
"To pick up Ingrid."
Aidan had been silent ever since they'd boarded the carriage, staring blankly out the window. Ironically, now that he knew Ingrid's true nature, he felt more unsettled than ever.
Another mutant monster, born of a Shapeshifter Beast.
Rayegar's explanation kept swirling restlessly in his ears. He was terrified that at any moment, Ingrid might turn into some horrifying monster.
"Whoa there!"
Scattered conversation drifted through the carriage, but the mood was mostly quiet. How long had they been riding like that? They barreled through the bustling city center toward the Academy, then seemed to veer down a side street before finally coming to a stop.
"Where are we?"
It was a quiet neighborhood with hardly a soul in sight. Only three or four houses stood in the distance; nothing else caught the eye.
"Over there."
Aidan pointed up a fairly steep hill.
"See that big cedar? Somewhere near that tree, Ingrid's sleeping, waiting for me."
They'd sent Ingrid flying off around here on the way down from the Academy after class.
When I see him, what do I even say first? Aidan's gaze toward the cedar was complicated.
"Didn't you tell me before that he's scared of unfamiliar places? That he doesn't show himself in broad daylight?"
"We've been here a few times."
The view of Carrington's streets from the cedar hill was impossibly beautiful. Every time Aidan looked out over the rows of red rooftops, he'd felt genuine awe.
He was glad, and proud, to have been born and raised in such a peaceful land. It was a place he'd sometimes visited on a whim, like a picnic outing—though since entering the Academy, he hadn't found the time to come even once.
"The scenery here is unbelievable. You all should thank me for the tour today."
It was his usual cocky tone, yet somehow there wasn't an ounce of energy in his voice. He stared up at the cedar for a long, silent moment, then began slowly climbing the hill.
"Ingrid, I'm here!"
Aidan had just called out in a deliberately bright voice when—
"...Wait!"
Quinn suddenly stopped walking, his expression grave.
"What is it?"
"What's wrong?"
"Shh! Quiet!"
It was the middle of the day. Everyone stared at Quinn strangely as he abruptly scanned their surroundings, wary and alert.
"...Huh?"
But a moment later, Eli's face went rigid too, his eyes locked on a single spot. The grass some distance away.
The thicket, perfectly still in the windless air, parted down the middle like a curtain being drawn—and out of it sauntered five men.
Even one glance was enough to tell they were bad news. No—dangerous. All of them wore masks, and each carried a weapon with a cold blue blade glinting at its edge.
"Beastfolk senses, maybe? Sharper than I expected."
The one who spoke was the largest of the five, a hulking man who dwarfed the rest. He drew a dagger and let out a low, oily voice.
"Who are you?"
Logan stepped abruptly in front of Bayul.
"Logan..."
He didn't need to ask. He already knew—Logan meant to protect him.
Because they'd left the Academy and gone straight to the Chairman, Ian wasn't here, nor were the Rezaï and Levi brothers. And so Logan, just as he had in their childhood, believed it was his duty to stand between Bayul and danger.
"Who, me? How should I introduce myself?"
"Aw, come on, boss! Why would we bother introducing ourselves to these brats? We just kill 'em like the job says and get out, don't we?"
"Such distinguished guests, traveling all the way to this quiet little place without even an escort knight. Truly, I am moved!"
"Heh heh. Didn't think we'd get our chance this fast, though."
"Five young ones? I might actually get a break today."
"Don't hold it against us, kids. We've all gotta eat."
Wearing masks meant one thing, unmistakably: an absolute determination never to be identified. It also meant there was no crime too vicious for them to commit.
Different shapes, every one—but not a single ordinary sword among them. They all gripped daggers. Daggers were the weapon of choice when a kill needed to be quiet, precise, and close.
Which made the answer obvious: assassins—killers for hire.
A band that would murder anyone for money, reason be damned. The way they snickered and traded idle banter right in front of their targets made it clear they weren't anything top-tier. This might actually be doable.
"You intend to kill us all?"
"It's just business. No hard feelings toward any of you."
"Who hired you?"
"Ha! If I went around naming clients, I'd be done in this trade. You know that."
"One last question, then. Do you know who we are?"
At Logan's weighty question, the masked man's eyes wavered for the first time. But he shook his head before long. He'd already been paid a staggering sum up front. There was even a promise of ten times that amount if he handled the job cleanly.
With that kind of money, he could go anywhere. Live in comfort for the rest of his days. Whether the target was a hero's son or some high-born noble's child—what did that matter to him?
As long as he didn't get caught, that was all there was to it. And in that particular field, the man was a seasoned professional.
"Enough chatter. Boys, let's get started."
"Yes, boss!"
"Let's wrap this up quick!"
The one called 'boss' was clearly the leader of the pack. At his command, the men shed their snickering like it had never existed and leveled their weapons.
Shing—
He couldn't just stand there and take it. Logan hurriedly drew Gideon as well. The black, crescent-curved dagger gleamed with a sharp light, as if to say come and get it.
"Oho, that looks like an expensive little dagger."
There was no special ornamentation, but Gideon carried an understated elegance that only long years could forge. The boss and his underlings alike had greed shining in their eyes.
"Take one more step and I'll kill you."
"Ooh, scary!"
"I'm gonna wet the bed tonight!"
At Logan's warning, the men mock-shuddered with feigned terror. They clearly had plenty of experience with situations like this; nothing about them wavered.
Be careful... these have the stench of back-alley thugs... no, wait...
Gideon warned.
I'm counting on you, Gideon.
Logan set his jaw and took his stance.
It would have been a lie to say he wasn't afraid.
Born and raised in the sword world, he'd played with wooden swords like toys from the time he was small. He'd had the confidence, too, that he could hold his own against anyone his age.
But this was different. A first-year Academy student like Logan could never have faced someone truly intent on taking his life.
"I can't just stand here either."
Swish!
Bayul had been dazed, half-lost in the sheer absurdity of the situation. He had no idea why these men were targeting them—but first things first: they had to fight.
As Eli traced a rune with his hand, a blue aura of mana gathered in his palm.
"...A mage?"
"Academy students, at best."
The masked men, who had hesitated briefly, relaxed at their boss's words and began slowly closing the distance again. Sweat beaded down Logan's and Eli's foreheads. The friends watching from behind felt exactly the same.
Pah!
One masked man lunged at once, aiming straight for Logan's vitals.
"Dig!"
But Eli's magic was faster. The boy swept his hand, and the blue mana sank rapidly into the earth—the ground beneath the man's feet caved in.
"Kgh!"
He lost his balance and pitched forward. Just as Eli's lips curled into a smile of triumph, another masked man, standing behind the fallen one, leapt off his back into the air.
Fwoosh!
A stone came flying from somewhere, hurtling toward the airborne man. He lightly knocked it aside and turned his head—and there was Aidan, waving.
"Don't forget about me, mister. Figured you might have."
The boy held high the wooden stick he'd snatched up in desperation, taunting the man.
"Hah! The itty-bitty young master's got no fear at all, does he?"
The sheer absurdity of it wrung a laugh out of him. But his eyes weren't laughing. Twirling the dagger in his hand in wide arcs, he walked unhurriedly toward Aidan.
"You little—!"
Just then, the masked man who'd been felled by the Dig spell cursed and charged at Eli.
For a heartbeat, Eli wavered.
Should I just kill them all? They're human trash—would that even matter?
The killing intent, once admitted, swelled beyond all control and pressed down on him. Holding it back was the hardest thing in the world for the boy.
Too many eyes right now. Don't let it show.
Forcing his fury down, Eli shouted the incantation.
"Shield!"
In an instant, a thin, bluish membrane materialized out of empty air.
Clang!
The man's dagger slammed against the barrier with a dull thud.
"You think a low-grade spell like that can stop me? Go on—do your worst!"
The man sneered at Eli and vaulted clean over the Shield. Not to be outdone, Eli cast the shield spell again while covertly surveying the field.
Logan.
There were five masked men in total. The boss was still only watching; Eli had drawn one, Aidan one—and two were on Logan.
Crang!
Logan, the only one of the group carrying an actual sword, was deflecting attacks with Gideon. Sparks flew where the ego sword and daggers collided.
It's a feint... the left...!
Gideon's warning bored into Logan's ear. Somewhere along the way, the man's empty left hand had come up clutching a second dagger—and that blade was driving toward Logan's stomach.
"Hah!"
Logan burst out a battle cry and desperately shoved the man's chest away with his left foot.
Shrak!
The blade sliced through the hem of Logan's clothes by a hair's breadth.
Now the right...!
Logan twisted his body sharply to the side. The sword of the other masked man, mid-combo, grazed past his right foot by the slimmest of margins.
"Ghh!"
Another attack came immediately after. Instinct made him recoil from the killing intent, falling back.
Clang! Clang!
The onslaught poured down. Logan, barely holding on thanks to Gideon's warnings, lost his balance for an instant and wavered. The men pressed into the opening at once.
Shrk!
His forearm was laid open, spattering blood. A shallow gash opened along the outside of his right thigh as well.
Behind you!
Unable to defend front and back at once, Logan threw himself sideways.
'Ugh!'
He couldn't dodge it completely; a stinging pain flared across the back of his shoulder. Thankfully, none of the wounds were severe enough to stop him from moving. The problem—the bitter, infuriating problem—was that he hadn't managed to land a single blow in return.
'If it were just one of them, I could manage something.'
What's the point of being top of the Knight Department, if I can't even take down two men and end up looking this pathetic?
Even knowing full well that facing two assassins—killers practiced in murder and stealth—was never going to be easy, the frustration made Logan curse himself.
"Hah... hah..."
It had been a short exchange, but Logan's breathing was ragged, as if the fight had taken everything out of him.
"Logan...!"
He heard the worry in Bayul's voice. He didn't need to turn around to know what expression the boy wore.
Bayul could not be allowed to get hurt. If Logan couldn't hold the line, Bayul would be next.
'I have to win this!'
Tightening his grip on Gideon, Logan steeled his resolve.
"Damn it!"
Quinn seethed as he watched his friends struggle against the masked men. No matter how desperately he scanned the area, there wasn't a single drop of water to be found.
"If there were just water—!"
In a parched place like this, where moisture was nearly impossible to find, Quinn—a merfolk—could hardly bring his abilities to bear.
And then—
"Logan, look out!"
Logan, who had been holding both men off despite the odds, caught his foot on a jutting stone and lurched badly. The masked man, grinning cruelly as if he'd been waiting for exactly this, drove his dagger in a lightning thrust toward Logan's chest.
"No!"
The sharp blade was a heartbeat from reaching Logan—
RRRRRUMBLE!
A mound of earth erupted from the ground and crashed into the masked man's face.
"Ughk!"
Dirt had gotten into his eyes. The man abandoned his attack, shaking his head wildly and scrambling backward.
'Shame!'
Bayul's mind snapped awake.
'What are you doing, Bayul! Use the spirits!'
The voice of his late twin rang through his skull, full of reproach.
'Fool, idiot!'
True, this situation was new to him—but watching himself do nothing but stamp his feet in helplessness, Bayul had never felt more pathetic. He'd never once imagined himself fighting anyone, and so he'd reacted like a fool.
But he was no longer an invalid. He was a Spirit User, one who commanded spirits—and at his side stood Innocent and Shame.
Hadn't he already trained more than enough? Now was exactly the time to see the fruit of all that effort.