Chapter 206: Pitch-Black Night (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 206: Pitch-Black Night (2)
The assassination guild, Écorché.
Their rise to their current prestigious status was entirely thanks to the existence of a top-class assassin known as the "Sword of Écorché." With nine assassinations under his belt, the Sword of Écorché exclusively targeted high-profile figures. Not only had he successfully completed all nine missions, but he also harbored a brutal habit of flaying his targets' skin.
This assassination.
It would be his tenth.
On this monumental day of finally hitting double digits, the assassin Kort felt a rush of excitement.
‘Roman Dmitry. As the most talked-about figure on the continent lately, he is the perfect target for my tenth kill. I wonder what kind of sound he'll make when he dies. Rumor has it he's a ruthless man who wouldn't bleed even if you stabbed him, but no matter what kind of life a human has lived, they always look pathetic in death.’
He melted into the darkness.
Dmitry's security system.
He had mapped it out perfectly.
Still, to prepare for any unforeseen variables, he had dispatched Écorché's assassins in four directions. While they drew attention, he would strike Roman Dmitry directly. He had already located his target. Earlier, he had slipped a mouse tamed with Familiar magic into Roman's quarters. Through the creature's eyes, he confirmed that Roman had entered the room and gone to sleep.
A quiet room.
Stable breathing.
He wasn't faking it.
The mouse's acute senses could gauge the target's condition; the invisible waves emanating from the human body confirmed he was genuinely asleep. All nine of Kort's previous assassinations had succeeded in this exact manner. No matter how strong a swordsman was, they were still just flesh and blood when they slept. They had all met their ends in deep slumber, never even realizing how they died.
Whoosh.
He channeled his mana.
He was not a mage, but through a magic circle engraved on his body, he could temporarily share the mouse's vision.
‘Foolish bastard. He has no idea what's happening in Dmitry and is still fast asleep.’
One hour into sleep.
He had entered the safe zone.
Kort moved forward cautiously.
Just like Cliff, he utilized a cloak imbued with Invisibility and gathered his mana to muffle his footsteps. His movements were like those of a nimble cat. Scaling the towering castle walls, he slipped inside. Even with guards patrolling nearby, he used the darkness to swiftly penetrate deeper.
Inside the building, the layout was clear in his mind.
Using the mouse, he had mapped out the area for a fortnight, calculating the shortest route to Roman Dmitry's room. He knew exactly how long it would take to get there, memorized the guards' patrol schedules, and secured escape routes in case any variables arose.
He had accounted for every variable.
Because of this, Kort's movements were bold.
In an instant, he reached the front of Roman Dmitry's room. He activated a magic artifact to block out all sound.
‘Silence.’
Click.
He opened the door.
It was a matter of extreme attention to detail. Those with sharp senses would wake up at even the faintest sound of a door opening, so Kort eliminated that variable entirely. Écorché's assassinations always went this way. Ordinary missions were handled by Cliff and the other guild members, but Kort put the finishing touches on the critical ones. Perfect calculations using a familiar, followed by flawless execution. When a flayed corpse was discovered at dawn, people would tremble at the mere mention of Écorché's name.
He stepped inside.
He raised his dagger.
He approached Roman Dmitry to slit his throat—but suddenly, Roman sat up.
And then...
"A rat, is it?"
His gaze was directed precisely at Kort, who was supposed to be completely invisible.
* * *
The previous evening.
Lucas had reported to him.
"The enemies' movements are unusual. Judging by how their paths overlap at certain times, it seems they are finalizing their plans for a full-scale operation. They will surely execute it within a few days. For now, we will reinforce our security and set traps in preparation for an assassination attempt."
Écorché's plan.
It had been seen through from the very beginning.
Even knowing they would attempt an assassination, and that it might be tonight, Roman Dmitry had still gone to sleep. What Kort had perceived was not a lie. Just as the mouse's senses had indicated, Roman had truly been asleep, remaining in deep slumber until Kort reached the door.
Roman Dmitry had been dreaming.
Dreaming of his life as Baek Joong-hyuk.
Until he reached the absolute peak, he could never let his guard down for even a single moment.
Baek Joong-hyuk's brothers had constantly sought his life. He had lived so fiercely that he had to worry about poison even in a casual cup of tea. At first, he stayed awake all night. He had to prepare for assassins who could strike at any moment, sitting in the corner of his room with bloodshot eyes, keeping his senses razor-sharp.
One day, two days...
When more than a year passed like that, Baek Joong-hyuk realized he could no longer live this way.
Staying up all night, or pretending to sleep—both had reached their limits.
Deciding that he needed rest to survive the life ahead, he learned how to guard against enemies with minimal effort. He closed his eyes. Even knowing an assassin was near, he would sleep, training his senses to react to the slightest presence instead.
At first, it was dangerous.
There were times he nearly died because he failed to wake up until killing intent was bared right before his nose. Once, his throat was actually cut halfway open, pouring blood. Yet, he had to do it. Knowing that he would eventually collapse if he allowed himself to be slowly eaten away mentally and physically, he prepared for enemy attacks with the bare minimum of energy.
At some point, his senses opened.
Even while asleep, his mind guarded his surroundings. The moment the slightest change occurred, he would wake up.
Tap.
A cautious step.
There was no sound, no presence.
Kort was not a careless man, yet from the moment he reached the door, Roman Dmitry had already sensed him. Compared to the countless assassins who had targeted his life in Murim, Kort was nothing. Having survived assassinations that spared neither time nor place—whether he was sleeping, eating, or walking—Roman could boldly sleep even with an assassin right at his doorstep.
Did Kort know?
That Roman Dmitry had survived more assassination attempts than Kort had ever made in his life?
No, more than all of Écorché combined had ever attempted.
That was a variable Kort could never have anticipated.
* * *
Goosebumps broke out over his skin.
The moment the target looked at him, Kort knew things had gone awry.
However...
‘Failure is not an option for me.’
The operation had already begun. Since the assassins attacking from all directions would soon arrive here, he needed to buy time until then. The problem was that his opponent was a 5-Star Swordsman. He had heard how Knight Commander Gustavo died, but Kort did not hesitate in his choice.
"Hold."
Flash.
The magic artifact activated.
At the same time...
"Haste. Strength."
He cast buff spells.
As Écorché's top assassin, Kort was equipped with a variety of weapons. In the split second the enemy's body was bound, he lunged right before Roman's nose. The speed enhanced by Haste, the formidable power of Strength, and the explosive Aura erupting from his dagger proved he was no ordinary assassin.
Rumble!
A 4-Star Aura.
He was an unranked existence. Though his exact strength was unknown to the world, his surprise attacks backed by his 4-Star Aura had brought him nine successes. Attacking Roman Dmitry was not an arrogant decision. Because he knew his own capabilities precisely, he believed that if he caught Roman off guard, he had a good chance of winning.
Whoosh!
A single strike.
It sliced through the air.
Roman Dmitry simply tilted his head to evade it, and the moment their eyes met, Kort hastily retreated.
Patter.
Nothing had happened yet.
Roman Dmitry had merely placed his hand on his sword without even drawing it, yet in Kort's mind, Roman's blade was already severing his head. It felt as if his feet were sinking into a swamp. Even though they hadn't properly exchanged a single blow, the sheer pressure of the situation drenched Kort's face in cold sweat.
Drip.
A drop of sweat fell.
Kort swallowed hard and lowered his stance.
‘If I let my guard down for even a second, I die.’
His instincts screamed at him. This was a dangerous enemy. Even for Kort, who had brought down nine powerful figures, this pressure was a first.
A suffocating silence descended.
When Kort kicked off the ground again, he pushed his Aura to its absolute limit.
Swish!
He was fast.
His movements, enhanced by Haste, were like those of a wild beast as he swung his dagger, searching for an opening. Roman Dmitry evaded most of the strikes, parrying the last with his sword. This was his chance. Kort slipped into Roman's guard, feinted an attack to the lower body to force a defense, and then swiftly changed direction to thrust his dagger beneath Roman's chin.
A surprise attack.
As Roman tilted his head back, Kort exploded his Aura, targeting multiple vital points simultaneously.
In a split second: six strikes.
Kort's assault was menacing, but the moment the flashing attacks ended, crimson blood splattered in all directions.
Slash.
"…!"
His arm flew through the air.
He hadn't even seen it.
He had genuinely thought he held the upper hand with the help of his artifacts, yet before Kort could even register what was happening, his arm was severed and airborne. His face turned pale. Roman Dmitry's reputation was no exaggeration. Once Roman Dmitry—the man who had overwhelmed Knight Commander Gustavo—noticed the assassination attempt, confronting him head-on was an incredibly foolish decision. Perhaps blinded by the symbolic meaning of his tenth assassination, Kort had made a reckless judgment.
‘It's over.’
Defeat was certain.
The assassination had failed, and putting aside the consequences, he had to survive first.
"Flash."
Flash!
He immediately detonated a magic bomb. Used at maximum output, the explosive released a blinding white light, obscuring all vision.
And then, he fled.
By the time the light faded, Kort was gone, leaving behind a trail of blood dripping along his escape route.
Roman Dmitry followed the trail.
There was no need to rush.
The moment the assassin set foot inside the Inner Castle, he had fallen into an inescapable trap.
* * *
Pain flared.
Clutching his blood-soaked arm, Kort ran frantically toward his pre-planned escape route.
‘Damn it. This operation is a complete failure. With the kind of martial power I just experienced from Roman Dmitry, even if the other Écorché members arrive, it won't change anything. If anything, Dmitry's soldiers will swarm us, and we won't be able to escape.’
His top priority: survival.
He moved toward the path his guild members were supposed to have secured, only to witness a shocking sight.
Flash.
"Aaargh!"
An Écorché assassin.
One of them screamed and collapsed.
A battle was raging in the very path he had planned to use for his escape, and the figure leading Dmitry's forces was someone Kort recognized. It was Chris. A figure Écorché was highly wary of. Chris was an incredibly threatening powerhouse even within Dmitry, to the point that their internal assessment advised avoiding clashes with him at all costs.
By his hand, the assassins were being slaughtered.
Not only had the direct assassination of Roman Dmitry failed, but the situation outside was looking just as grim.
‘Could they have anticipated our plan?’
Given the circumstances—Roman Dmitry reacting to his assassination attempt and battles breaking out outside—it was a highly plausible theory. Of course, that was only half-true. While it was true that Dmitry had seen through Écorché's plan, the failure of Kort's assassination attempt was entirely due to Roman Dmitry's own capabilities.
By any common sense, such a thing was unimaginable.
Kort turned around and fled in another direction.
However...
"…Damn it."
The situation there was no different.
No.
They were already all dead.
Amidst the corpses scattered everywhere, a man looked at Kort.
He was also someone Kort remembered.
Kevin.
With a face colder than usual, Kevin was waiting for Kort to flee to this very spot.
Very eagerly.
So that he could exact his revenge with his own hands.