Chapter 121
Chapter 121
KWA-BOOM!
An explosion shattered the silent moonlit night.
The masked man's eyes widened as he staggered back from the shockwave.
And in that moment—Logan was already in his face.
"Exciting, isn't it?"
With a grin, Logan swung his golden sword with enough force to split the world in two.
BAM!
The masked man stumbled backward, disoriented.
"T-This...?!"
Even though he had used a Force Blade, he was still overpowered by sheer sword strength—something that clearly shocked him.
'The ambusher got careless.'
Logan smirked inwardly at the irony but didn't let up. If his opponent was underestimating him, he'd make sure to exploit that weakness.
Just as the condensed golden energy at the tip of Logan's sword was about to unleash—
A chilling killing intent prickled at his back.
He abandoned his Severing Gold Strike and rolled forward instead.
WHOOSH!
A second Force Blade sliced through the air where he had stood moments ago.
'Two of them?!'
What's worse—he hadn't sensed the second attacker until the very last moment.
Logan's expression turned icy.
"Two elite knights, masked, ganging up on one man? Where's your pride?"
He threw out the taunt, half-expecting no response.
SWISH!
CLANG!
No words—only blades flying at him from front and back.
And then—
"AAARGH!"
Screams began erupting from inside the manor.
Seeing Logan's hardened expression, the masked men finally spoke.
"This is the price for defying him."
"Just die quietly."
Logan's lips curled into a faint smile.
"Ugh... Third night shift in a row. Can't they cut us some slack— Ow! Ow! Fine, I'm going!"
Jensen, a MacLaine soldier, grumbled as he trudged down the manor's hallway after getting smacked for complaining.
"You're the one who swapped shifts with Leo on your day off. You brought this on yourself. Shut up and do your damn patrol."
Veteran soldier Hanson shut him up with a glare.
Jensen kept glancing back nervously—clearly wary of the knight silently trailing behind them.
Tonight's patrol leader was Dygrom, a knight infamous for his rigid adherence to rules.
'I just got promoted to guard duty—shouldn't I get to slack off a little? Damn it, why'd the Grand Prince suddenly tighten security like this?'
Jensen was annoyed by the excessive security measures that had started right after the Vifros Occupation War—a conflict he'd fought in.
Stationing three squads of knights (18 men) and a hundred soldiers every night in a manor housing only the lord's family and attendants? Ridiculous.
'These nobles are strong enough to protect themselves. Why do I have to guard them? Tch.'
Of course, he couldn't voice these complaints aloud.
So he sighed deeply and turned his gaze out the window—
SWOOSH.
Something flickered in the darkness.
Instinct kicked in. Jensen raised his right fist above his head—the signal for "Halt. Suspicious activity."
The drowsy soldiers snapped to attention, hastily drawing their crossbows.
CLICK-CLACK.
The familiar sound of mechanisms locking into place.
For MacLaine's rank-and-file soldiers, crossbows were now more familiar than spears.
At the same time—
"Above!"
Knight Dygrom barked a warning and slashed upward.
BOOM!
A masked figure was flung back into view, now fully visible to the soldiers.
"FIRE!"
At Hanson's command, Jensen took careful aim and pulled the trigger.
A single trigger pull unleashed two quarrels almost simultaneously.
THWIP-THWIP!
The familiar sound of bolts cutting through air.
Jensen couldn't track the movements clearly, but between him and his comrades, at least ten quarrels were now streaking toward the intruder.
Yet—
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
The masked man deflected the bolts mid-air with lightning-fast sword strokes, closing the distance in an instant.
'Is that even human?!'
Jensen had seen this before on the battlefield, but Force Users still seemed like a different species altogether.
But then—something unexpected happened.
"Guh!"
Two quarrels punched through the intruder's left arm and right thigh.
'Huh?!'
Jensen blinked in disbelief.
"Fire again!"
Dygrom's order snapped him back to reality. He pulled the trigger once more.
The repeating crossbow auto-reloaded in seconds, launching another two quarrels.
But Jensen already knew this attack would fail.
This time, he was the only one firing—just two bolts.
'That monster's gonna deflect these and charge right at me—'
CLANG!
THUD.
Thanks to his heightened focus, Jensen barely caught the blur of movement.
The masked man deflected both quarrels—but one ricocheted and lodged into his thigh again.
And in that split second—
Dygrom blurred past Jensen.
BOOM!
A clash between monsters.
But the wounded monster lost.
"Good job."
Dygrom lifted his blood-splattered visor and clapped Jensen's shoulder.
"I-I just shot when you told me to..."
"That's exactly what you were supposed to do. Just shoot."
"Huh?"
"In a narrow hallway like this, even a Force User can't block everything. And without armor? Even an elite would die."
Just as Dygrom finished his cold assessment—
"AAARGH!"
A distant scream echoed.
Everyone tensed, but—
"No need to rush. If they're moving one by one, they're few in number. Advance slowly! Shoot anything black on sight! I'll cover the rear."
Dygrom's calm commands steadied the men.
A leader who remained unshaken even in crisis, instilling confidence.
This was the moment when Dygrom—the rigid, rule-bound knight—became a legend among MacLaine's soldiers.
Elite Force Users—assassins, no less—were rare enough.
And two of them working together?
At this point, only one man had both the means and the grudge to send such killers after Logan.
'Jordan Waltermein.'
He'd expected retaliation, but this was bolder than anticipated.
He didn't know how many had infiltrated, but just the two before him would've been enough to wipe out the old MacLaine without breaking a sweat.
If there were more like them...
'No. Impossible. And even if there are—I'm ready.'
Logan steadied his racing thoughts and focused on the enemies in front of him.
The moment he ducked, a Force Blade sliced through the air above his head.
The attacker in front fought with textbook-perfect swordsmanship—flawless fundamentals.
Worse, his Force Blade's shifting length and angles were so fluid that Logan struggled to gauge distance, his spatial awareness thrown into disarray.
The second assassin was completely different.
SWISH!
A chilling sensation—Logan rolled aside just as a Force Blade materialized out of thin air, slicing through empty space.
The moment the attack missed, the assassin vanished again—melting into the shadows so seamlessly it defied belief.
A top-tier Force User, trained as an assassin.
Seeing this, Logan realized the Empire's infamous Ghosts from his past life weren't just rumors.
SWISH!
"Guh!"
A momentary lapse in focus—and a blade grazed his thigh.
Danger.
Yet, strangely, he didn't feel like he would lose.
His realm was still that of an elite, but his combat prowess had evolved since defeating Aslan.
Even if that was partly due to artifacts—it was still encouraging.
The mere fact that he could envision victory against two elite-level opponents defied all logic.
'If I hold out long enough, an opening will come.'
Clutching that thought, Logan focused entirely on defense—parrying and redirecting attacks with minimal movement.
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
BOOM!
Of course, he couldn't avoid injury entirely.
As time passed, wounds accumulated until he was a bloodied mess, moving on sheer instinct.
His face was likely deathly pale by now.
But Logan was certain the expressions beneath those masks were even uglier.
'They're getting impatient.'
The screams from earlier had dwindled to near silence.
Whoever had infiltrated was being dealt with.
Yet these two couldn't disengage—not when Logan, though pressured, had shown he could bite back if they slipped up.
And soon—the assassin in front made a mistake.
"DIE!"
The composed demeanor from earlier was gone.
His body burned crimson with overcharged Force, his attacks turning faster, fiercer.
'Overheat.'
Logan welcomed it.
Desperation meant recklessness.
If he endured just a little longer—
CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!
"HRRAAAGH!"
A sweeping slash engulfed the entire space in front of Logan—too wide to deflect.
BOOM!
He was sent flying back nearly ten meters—only to feel an icy sensation piercing toward his spine.
He twisted violently—
But not fast enough.
A searing-hot slash tore into his side.
"Guh!"
White-hot pain lanced through his skull.
"This is the end."
A cold voice. The blade shifted—preparing to finish him.
As his vision whited out, Logan—acting purely on instinct—released a golden wave not from his sword, but from his body.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
"KUH—!"
The assassin who'd pushed Logan to the brink was sent flying, battered by the golden surge.
Divine Sword Secret Art: First Form—Wave-Cutting Slash.
But this wasn't a proper technique—just raw willpower forcing his body to unleash it.
And that meant one thing.
Cough-cough.
"Heh."
Logan spat blood and grinned at his sword.
A faint but unmistakable golden blade now overlay Lux.
The once-raging Force had refined itself—taking the shape of a sword.
"Force Blade...?"
"IMPOSSIBLE!"
Though weak—extending barely 30 centimeters—it was enough to stun his enemies.
They were witnessing something straight out of a heroic tale—a man ascending mid-battle.
"KILL HIM! HE'S CRITICAL!"
The thrown assassin roared, charging again—though his movements were sluggish, still reeling from the earlier blow.
"DIE!"
The front assassin also lunged, teeth gritted—
"Should've attacked instead of running your mouths, idiots."
A white light erupted from Logan's bracelet, sealing most of his wounds in an instant.
Then—
A golden Force Blade, over a meter long, erupted from Lux—painting the night sky in dazzling strokes.