The Festival Trap
“My god, Sword Ghost! How did you come by such information—.”
“Shh. Too loud, Valeria.”
I shared the uneasy premonition I'd felt with her.
She believed my hunch without question and was stunned.
It was all based on my instincts anyway.
Any ordinary lord would dismiss it or take it with a grain of salt.
But things moved fast with her.
In public, she treated me like her son, following my every lead.
Behind closed doors, her worship of me as the Sword Ghost paid off in moments like this.
“In that case, I'll cancel tomorrow's victory celebration for you, Sword Ghost, right away. We'll bolster the territory's defenses and mobilize every resource we have.”
But.
No matter how I turned it over in my mind, that didn't feel like the optimal play.
Then it hit me—a simple thought flashing through my head.
In a normal situation, yeah, that's the right move. But these guys feel like professionally trained assassins.
Assassins like that were rare jokers, saved for battles or wars.
For them to swarm our remote territory en masse—location-wise, barely a backwater—meant they had a clear, compelling target.
Like me, for instance.
Not that I hoped so.
But if it was true, that bitch Demon King might already know I'd awakened.
Anyway, even if we fortified now and repelled them successfully,
we couldn't wipe out every skilled one in a single stroke.
They'd have every chance to slink back later.
Guys with such an obvious high-priority mark wouldn't give up easily.
So.
In this scenario, sticking to the plan might be better.
“Nah, on second thought, let's hold the festival as scheduled.”
“—Sword Ghost, you mean...”
“These bastards won't back off just because we block them. They'll come back whenever, however. So we lure 'em all in and take 'em out at once.”
It was a strategy I'd exploited to hell and back in my past life.
Spreading the net.
Or, more positively put.
But realistically, it was gambling the lives of my people to root out the assassins completely—and I knew it.
Risk and reward go hand in hand.
And I?
I was confident.
How long had it been since I'd shattered cocky amateurs' blades?
“As heir to Tak County, successor to founder Max, I, Valeria, pledge absolute loyalty to you, Sword Ghost.”
She flashed a flicker of worry but backed me fully, raising my hand in support.
“Good. Then I need a squad of knights to march in step with me—I'll pick 'em myself. Your top priority: open the underground prison.”
“...Yes. You're going for Lord Jade, aren't you.”
“Yeah. He couldn't resist me, but he's got experience. Perfect for bringing along.”
“Use them all as you wish, Sword Ghost.”
“Good.”
“Please, repay the debt you owe this land with salvation once more.”
“Leave it to me, Countess.”
“Hey, it's me.”
“Young Master Valter!! Wh-what brings you to the armory?!”
“Plenty of good stuff here. No time for chit-chat—I'm borrowing some.”
“Eek—?! Y-Young Master?!”
“Quiet.”
I swaggered into the armory,
grabbing whatever suited me with glee.
Valeria said use it all.
This much should be fine.
...Picking alone is kinda boring, though.
But then it crossed my mind.
If that evil spirit were here right now...
“That bandage is tacky. Toss it.”
“How many times do I gotta say it—you look good in red! Blue? What the hell!”
“No need for bulky pauldrons. Trim 'em down.”
—He'd nag endlessly like that.
Back when he haunted my head, driving me nuts, I hated his guts.
Now that he was gone? Kinda missed him, honestly.
Not that I'd tell a soul. My little secret.
“Large village ahead. Ignore it, boss?”
“...Worried about reinforcements later, but we can't slow down. No matter what, we push to Tak County's capital by tomorrow.”
“Got it. Time to show 'em what happens when you throw a cozy festival at a time like this.”
“Celebrating like this over slaying an A-rank monster? A stray dog would laugh.”
“Plan still total wipeout?”
“No changes.”
The Demon King's elite assassins.
Their prowess was known across the demon realms.
No one had seen them fight firsthand, though.
But results spoke louder than words.
Where they passed, life became sticky meat and blood winds.
That they left no witnesses only proved how ghostly they were in combat.
Bathed in their queen's favor,
they handled the most critical missions in every demon army war.
And recently, in her extermination campaign,
their top order was to erase every living thing in Tak County—down to the last.
Not to a single squad, but their entire force.
Unprecedented.
Even assassinating the human pontiff had taken just over ten.
So even brainwashed to obey blindly,
this time, doubts crept in.
...Shockingly mundane borderland. Just decaying human villages. What potential did the Demon Queen foresee to send us all here?
But the Demon Queen didn't err.
The stakes must be dire.
So they buried their questions,
focused on flawless execution,
and moved swiftly.
And just as planned, they reached the count's castle on festival day.
Not as bustling as a metropolis bash, fitting for a backwater county.
But packed—nearly everyone nearby crammed in.
A infiltrator monitoring from the capital reported flatly.
“Boss, this crowd? Piece of cake to wipe 'em all.”
“Yeah. But wait for peak turnout. Gate sealers are in position. Signal 'em when ready, then we start.”
The assassin boss aimed to unleash magic the moment the festival star—the kid who slew the A-rank—appeared.
“When all eyes are glued, sever one throat. Done.”
His blade bore a fang mark,
engraved with Blood Magic once wielded by the Sword Ghost centuries ago.
One slash boiled the victim's blood, bursting it outward,
scorching bystanders with heat,
repeating the chain.
Yes.
A nightmare weapon in crowds.
Not his style as a demon assassin—Sword Ghost origin was weird.
But the Demon Queen had handed it down personally, insisting.
So use it he must.
How long did they wait?
Bwoooong—.
Festival in full swing, majestic trumpets blared.
The castle gates swung open.
“Woooah... Y-Young Master Valter's coming out!”
The assassin boss clocked the moment instantly.
“...Now.”
Drew his sword,
lunged at a girl knee-high amid the revelers, slashing down.
Then signal the gate team,
sweep the rest with hidden allies, immune to the Blood Magic.
“No hard feelings.”
Whoosh—.
But.
Something was off.
Blade plunged deep, yet his hand wouldn't descend.
Snagged, blocked—like by an invisible wall.
Panicking, what the hell?, he swung again and again.
Only then did he realize:
Someone gripped his arm from behind.
“—Who the fuck?!”
Shock like never before—he spun.
No one sneaks up on a lifetime stealth master.
But as he turned,
his vision halved.
Craaaack—!!!
His skull cleaved in two by the descending blade.
Through the geyser of blood, the voice pierced:
Not anyone else, but him.
“Who else? The master of that magic you were about to use.”
Valter.