Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: 48. Tournament (4)
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Yuri had committed countless acts of slaughter during the war, but they had all been against orcs.
So this could be called his first murder in this life.
But there was no emotional turmoil whatsoever.
In his previous life, he had piled up mountains of corpses while fighting the Empire.
He knew that if he didn't kill, he would be killed, and he had long since abandoned any excuses.
Anyone who stood in his way had to die.
On the other hand, the black-clad assassins, unaware of Yuri's circumstances, were greatly shaken.
"......"
According to their investigations, Brioll's third prince had never killed a human.
So they had assumed he would hesitate when facing people.
They were wrong.
No one could become like that after killing just one or two.
The third prince must have killed countless people without their knowledge, or else he was a born psychopath.
The leader of the black-clad assassins spoke.
"Nothing changes. Stay calm."
Normally, speaking was against the rules, but he deliberately made a sound to steady his men.
It seemed he would have to step in himself.
"I'll go first. Stay calm."
Though the third prince had exceeded expectations, he didn't feel a major threat.
He was confident.
Ever since being taken in by that exalted figure in the imperial palace, he had trained solely to kill people.
The same went for the men who came with him.
He recalled the report received just before launching the assault.
According to the data, most of the third prince's achievements were likely accomplished by knights named Rolang and Raymond.
He agreed with that assessment.
A kid not even twenty couldn't have fought orcs like that.
That's why he hadn't participated in the tournament—to avoid exposing his true skill.
"Attack."
The leader signaled with his hand and charged.
The third prince stood still, sword dangling loosely.
He first swung his sword in flashy arcs. Amid the dizzying afterimages, the third prince wouldn't be able to distinguish the real blade.
In sync, the remaining assassins surrounded the third prince, waiting for an opening.
That was the moment.
The leader suddenly felt a breeze brush his cheek.
He ignored it at first, but the wind kept growing stronger.
His clothes fluttered violently.
Before long, he realized a whirlwind was rising around the third prince.
The airflow was sucking in their bodies like a black hole.
"......!"
He panicked briefly but responded calmly. Rather than resisting the flow, he tried to use the pull to close in and thrust.
But the instant he collided with the whirlwind's substance...
His clothes shredded into pieces.
He shouted hysterically.
"Don't approach!"
But it was too late.
One assassin entered the vortex's domain and was flung out like a rag doll.
His lower body was completely caught up and turned to mush, leaving only his torso alive, dragging entrails across the ground before finally expiring.
Even the leader faltered momentarily at the gruesome sight.
"What's wrong with you all?"
The third prince approached with a composed expression.
Centered on the sword draped over his shoulder, sword aura swirled around him like a living thing.
This was no mere wind.
It was a storm of sword aura made of mana.
He muttered unwittingly.
"Impossible......"
The whirlwind was composed of smaller whirlwinds, which in turn were made of even tinier ones.
They meshed like gears, sometimes spinning in unison, sometimes opposing each other, repeatedly harmonizing and clashing.
In that process, the destructive power squared itself.
Anything entering the vortex was torn to shreds.
It was awe-inspiring.
The feats the third prince displayed completely missed their expectations.
"Hold."
He pulled back the rest and observed the third prince closely.
Sweat trickled down the third prince's cheek.
Was he tiring?
It exceeded expectations, but it was fine.
A technique as destructive as the one just shown would strain even the user.
Unable to win through attrition, he had gambled on his strongest move.
Not bad.
It was a ploy to exaggerate his strength and envelop the enemy in fear.
Strong and clever.
Perhaps his exploits in the Allied Forces weren't fabricated.
But that was the end.
Still not even twenty. Absolutely no time to acquire the skill to oppose them.
The leader advanced first, signaling with his hands. The others followed cautiously.
Once more, that terrifying vortex spread out.
He feigned entering, leaning forward before pulling back.
Thus wasting mana.
The third prince seemed to be tiring, stepping back. Eventually, his sword tip dipped slightly.
"Now."
At his signal, the assassins waiting around him moved organically, encircling the third prince and his guard.
The hunt was just beginning.
Hunting a fatigued enemy was exceedingly easy.
He signaled once more for the wheel formation.
A formation that used numbers to rotate attackers, exhausting the enemy until they collapsed on their own.
Yuri and his guard had each other's backs. Their voices carried over.
"Hey, do your best."
"Be careful, Your Highness."
Forcing composure, no emotional fluctuations were felt.
He curled his lip.
His loyalty would soon benefit the Empire.
Killing such a brilliant third prince would ultimately aid the Empire's future.
Even if Brioll's king raged, it didn't matter.
No one could match the number of Ten Strong under the Empire.
"For that one alone......"
At his attack order, the assassins struck in rotation.
The third prince and his guard didn't collapse easily. They defended well against attacks and occasionally counterattacked, killing assassins.
But the numerical superiority was clear.
With each turn of the death wheel, the third prince's fate hurtled toward demise. When the wheel stopped, those two would be corpses on the ground.
He didn't rush.
Yuri retracted the rotating whirlwind and glanced at the leader while fending off the charging black-clad assassins.
He didn't like the look in the man's eyes beneath the mask.
It was as if he found their efforts admirable.
"Hey, Jared."
"Yes."
"Do as I said."
"Understood."
After whispering softly, Jared sliced the leg of one charging assassin.
True to his trained assassin nature, the opponent didn't even groan. Instead, he flung his sword at Yuri to force him back, then returned to his position in the wheel formation.
A new black-clad assassin lunged at Yuri.
It was tricky.
They were leveraging their numbers, intent on slowly but surely crushing him.
They had killed about five so far, leaving fifteen.
"When are you gonna make your move?"
"Right now!"
Jared grunted as he thrust his sword into one assassin's heart.
But he stabbed too deep.
While pulling it out, another assassin charged, putting him in danger.
Yuri intervened to save him.
Jared whispered.
"My acting... killer, right?"
"You almost died for real."
"No, that was acting too."
Indeed.
They were putting on a show.
Pretending to barely hold on in a grueling fight, responding defensively while occasionally killing one or slashing a leg.
The reason was simple.
To prevent anyone from escaping.
If they crushed them outright from the start, they might flee. So they deliberately acted overwhelmed to force the enemy into full commitment.
And the strategy worked brilliantly.
Just looking at that leader bastard's creepy gaze revealed his thoughts.
At first: 'Exaggerated reputation. Just a brat.'
After clashing once: 'Better than expected. But strained from using that technique.'
Now: 'They're tiring. Keep pressing, and we win.'
Yuri read him like an open book, almost mind-reading.
"Huff... huff......"
He dodged the approaching assassin's sword with exaggerated heavy breathing.
Guilty's tip slithered up the man's arm like a snake and slit his throat.
As the leader and assassins' eyes widened at the artistic strike, Yuri coughed dramatically.
"Cough, cough!"
Like someone whose meridians were damaged from overexertion, he deliberately mimicked spitting blood.
He didn't want to bite his tongue for real blood, but this should suffice.
As expected, the assassins attacked with renewed smugness.
Simple fools.
Trained, sure, but lacking as true assassins.
"Hey, scared? Then scram!"
At Yuri's shout, the black-clad men charged fiercely again.
Yuri kept defending, counterattacking occasionally by targeting legs. Gradually, the wheel formation slowed.
Yuri quietly asked Jared behind him.
"Status?"
"Piece of cake."
"Keep acting till that guy notices."
"Yes, sir."
As time passed, the leader sensed something off.
By now, they should be exhausted, yet the third prince and guard staggered but didn't fall. And they occasionally countered impossibly, picking off assassins one by one.
Their numbers had already halved.
The survivors all limped.
Realizing this, he frantically checked his men.
"Uh......"
Only he retained mobility.
Shocked by what that implied, he yelled.
"No way, this is!"
"Finally caught on?"
The instant the leader shouted, Yuri straightened and charged the wheel formation.
Two assassins countered the sudden assault, but Yuri swung Guilty, cleaving them.
One died, one dodged.
But the survivor, wounded in the leg, could only crawl.
Yuri grinned at the panicking leader.
"If you guys run, it'll be a hassle."
"Impossible......"
"Now it's your turn to freak out and bolt?"
"Tch......"
He couldn't stay here.
His instincts screamed warning.
Yuri Brioll, Brioll's third prince, was a greater monster than imagined.
Not just swordsmanship, but cunning schemes and execution—surpassing expectations in every way.
Pretending weakness to strip their mobility.
Who would pull such a stunt?
Now, the leader's mind was filled with urgency to warn his master.
He turned to flee from Yuri.
But after a few steps, something sharp pierced his calf.
"Argh......"
He tumbled to the ground.
His face smashed into a rock, breaking teeth and splattering blood.
"Urk......"
Groping his calf, he found a dagger embedded.
While down, screams from his men echoed behind.
"Ah......"
They were the ones worn down by the wheel formation.
This would be annihilation.
Fear filled his eyes.
"Hey."
In the now-quiet surroundings, only the third prince's footsteps approached.
"Let's make this easy."
Yuri plopped down beside him, ass on the ground. He removed the bloodied mask.
"Uh uh......"
Yuri panicked as teeth clattered from the leader's mouth.
"Oh no. Hey."
"......"
"I know a good healer who can fix it......"
"......"
"Whatever. You don't wanna be tortured, right? Even if you go back like this, you're dead anyway?"
"......"
"Just tell me who sent you, and I'll spare you."
"......"
"Let's do this nice. Nice. Yeah? I'm not into blood that much."
Yuri pulled the wind-return dagger from his calf. The leader's leg spasmed, but he gritted his teeth, stifling groans.
"Wow, not even a sound. Manly."
Yuri patted his shoulder.
"Cool. Got grit. Our dark friend. Shall we introduce ourselves first? What's your name?"
"......"
"Man, you're making me talk alone, embarrassing......"
"......"
"You really won't talk?"
"......"
"Hmm......"
Yuri spun the held wind-return dagger once.
Then he slashed across the man's eye.
The eyeball burst from the sudden cut.
He clutched his eye, writhing.
"Argh! My eye!"
Yuri grinned.
"Oh, now you're talking."