Chapter 64
Chapter 64
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 64
Chapter Title: Blazing Ambush
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Roarrrrr!
The pitch-dark street blazed to life in an instant.
The flames, emitting heat so intense it warped surrounding objects, had already closed in right before Tia's eyes.
If struck head-on, even Tia wouldn't escape unscathed. It was magic of that caliber.
But that also meant the opposite.
If it didn't hit dead-on, it wouldn't inflict any real damage.
Screeeeech!
Tia swept both arms through the air, and Isabelle's fireball shattered into fragments, scattering everywhere.
Whoosh!
Most of the splintered flames fizzled out mid-air, but a few latched onto nearby combustibles, gradually igniting and raising the ambient temperature.
Tia rotated her aching fingers as she eyed the surroundings lit by the growing blaze.
...A glance!
She snuck a peek down at her hand, catching the faint but persistent tremors in her fingers.
"...Ha! What the hell is this? Those idiot intel bureau bastards... they completely botched the job. What kind of lame-ass bitch pulls off a 3rd-class spell without chanting?"
It was absurd.
When Tia first laid eyes on Isabelle, she'd pegged her as a delicate greenhouse flower, pampered in the royal family.
And that assessment had been spot-on, more or less.
Isabelle hadn't even managed a proper defense against Tia's casual threatening strike, taking the hit like a fool.
But surprise—the flower had sharper thorns than expected.
"Well... to be fair, she's got royal blood in her veins, right?"
Tia rolled her sore wrist, her eyes gleaming coldly.
From Tia's mutterings, Isabelle pieced together a few clues.
'...Intel bureau?'
Not many organizations ran high-level intel networks of their own.
'...Not a martial clan or mage tower. No way.'
Hate to admit it, but Isabelle knew full well how elite those groups were.
They couldn't possibly be unaware of her prodigious talent in magic from a young age.
To uncover their identities, she needed more intel.
"...Why are you trying to kill me? I don't think I've done anything to earn that kind of grudge from anyone."
"Ha! This bitch really lives in her own little world, huh? Hey, because of you, our kingdom's long-standing unspoken rule is getting shaken up. How much of a thorn in the Patriarch's side do you think you are?"
"...Patriarch?"
"Ha, did that punch scramble your brains? There's only one man in Aslan Kingdom worthy of that title."
Tia answered so nonchalantly, but Isabelle saw through it instantly.
A lie.
Even if she'd feigned ignorance about the magic to throw off their intel, Isabelle couldn't buy that Paon Lichtenauer would stoop to such dirty tricks.
She wasn't close to him—in fact, she saw him as an enemy—which made her view all the more objective.
'Let alone handing the job to some moron who blurts out their identity like this.'
She was saying it on purpose.
Loud enough for the slum-dwellers hiding in nearby buildings to hear.
To pin the blame for this madness on the Lichtenauer Martial Clan.
"...Right here in the capital? If I'd known Paon was this insane, I would've told Father to wipe him out ages ago."
Isabelle bit her lower lip in frustration.
Tia smirked, pleased by the sight.
"Kukuku! Don't be so upset. Anyway..."
"Tia, enough."
Thwack!
Adam, who had been snuffing out the spreading flames barehanded, silenced Tia.
"Don't run your mouth where it doesn't belong. We're just here to do the job we're assigned."
"...Oops, my bad. Almost slipped up there."
Tia clammed up, realizing her mistake.
'...Tch.'
Isabelle clicked her tongue inwardly.
The guy might be clueless, but a little more prodding on Tia would've cracked the backers wide open.
Whether Isabelle regretted it or not, Adam—having extinguished all the fires—had no intention of giving her a breather.
Groooan!
Adam loaded power into his slightly bent legs, his thick thighs bulging like they might burst.
Then he stomped the ground fiercely, unleashing the pent-up force.
Boom!
"!"
Adam closed the distance to Isabelle in a flash.
Whoosh!
His massive hand, like a pot lid, swung toward her head. Isabelle instinctively erected a shield, forming a translucent barrier.
One hit from that monstrous fist, and her skull would burst like fruit.
Clang!
The shield shook wildly, as if struck by siege weaponry.
Bang! Boom!
Adam hammered down relentlessly, ignoring the shield entirely. Cracks spiderwebbed across it before it shattered into pieces.
"It's over, Princess. Go quietly...?!"
Crackle, crackle!
Waiting for Adam as he advanced beyond the translucent barrier was a bolt of ultra-compressed lightning.
Zzzzap!
The lightning leaped from Isabelle's hand, engulfing Adam.
Isabelle had no doubt this strike would drop him.
'Dead-on hit. No matter how tough this musclehead is, he can't shrug this off!'
Blocking Adam's attack and countering—it was brilliant judgment for her first real fight.
But she overlooked one thing.
In real combat, things rarely go as planned.
Thud!
Adam crossed his arms and bulldozed through the lightning unscathed.
"Ah...?!"
Shock was fleeting.
Isabelle hastily tried to raise another shield, but...
It was too rushed to stop Adam's fist.
Clanggg!
"Kyaaaaah!"
The makeshift shield crumbled in under a second, and Adam's fist slammed into Isabelle, sending her flying pitifully.
"Not a bad move, shame it doesn't work on me. Lightning's no good against this body."
Crack, crack!
Adam rolled his neck, muscles flexing leisurely.
Isabelle's situation, however, was dire.
"Urk, bleeech!"
Splat, splat!
Stomach acid mixed with dark red fluid poured from her mouth.
Her ribs must have punctured something from that punch—every breath scraped like knives in her chest.
In agony she'd never known as royalty, Isabelle forced her blood- and dirt-caked body upright.
'Stay put, and I'm dead...!'
It was pure instinct.
And spot-on instinct—it just might save her life.
Because right now, Adam was charging at her sprawled position, fist cocked.
She reached out a trembling hand toward him and chanted.
"...Dig."
Whoosh!
"!"
Adam, mid-leap toward her, vanished instantly.
Obviously.
No matter how skilled a warrior, no ground meant no movement.
Boom!
But less than a second passed.
That was all the time it took for Adam to burst back up from the crater.
But it was enough.
"Blink, guh...!"
Flash!
Isabelle vanished in a burst of light.
Boom!
Less than a second later.
Adam's fist cratered the spot where her head had been.
The wall crumbled to dust.
Reappearing a short distance away, Isabelle gulped dryly at the sight.
If her judgment had been a hair slower, or if she'd skipped Dig...
Her head—not the wall—would be pulverized. A chill ran down her spine.
'...I have to run. Can't take them alone.'
Isabelle judged coolly.
Experience, skill—
She was outmatched in every way.
And there were two of them.
She had to move before they pinpointed her.
Tap, tap, tap...!
Slipping between buildings, Isabelle fled at a brisk pace.
'Just a bit farther...'
If she reached the bustling district, the palace knights could help.
She'd escape their grasp.
About 100 meters in.
Screee!
A faint whine pierced her ears.
Thwip!
A slender thread punched through her delicate shoulder.
"Aaaah!"
For Isabelle, raised in the palace untouched by pain, the agony of torn flesh and shattered bone was unbearable.
"Urgh...!"
Her legs buckled amid the whitening pain.
Step, step...
From afar, Tia approached leisurely.
"Aw, don't run off so rudely. We haven't even had a proper chat. Besides, Princess, this deserted spot suits you way better than that crowded street."
Tia taunted as she closed in.
Isabelle couldn't turn, but she knew.
'Her steps... so slow...'
Casual, confident. Fish on the hook.
Her hands shook like palsy amid the pain, but Isabelle began etching a magic circle in her own blood.
Step!
Tia arrived right before her.
Flash!
"Tele...port...!!"
Light swirled around Isabelle once more. Tia's smug face twisted in urgency.
"Damn it!"
Maybe fearing the hassle of pursuit if she slipped away again.
Scree!
Tia's thread shot like a beam, but...
Isabelle's spell was faster.
Slash!
The thread sliced empty air and carved the building wall behind.
Isabelle overcame the pain, completed the spell, and escaped.
The hunters had become the hunted in an instant—but...
"...Aw, she got away."
Oddly enough.
Tia and Adam didn't look too down.
Not down at all—serene, like this was the plan all along.
"That girl... we took it easy, and she bolts like that. What's with the dopey act?"
"Guess she figured fleeing was beneath royal dignity."
Adam shrugged nonchalantly. Tia found that even more ridiculous.
"Hah? Get real... Noble brains are a mystery. Dignity? You gotta live first to feel that crap."
"No need to understand these southern hicks. Anyway, let's move. Guards'll swarm soon."
"Yeah, yeah. Tch, why bother with all this hassle..."
With Isabelle gone, Tia and Adam clicked their tongues and melted into the shadows.
Once more, silence blanketed the site where Isabelle's flames had lit the night sky.
Save for the scorch marks at a few fire spots.
Wind back the clock a bit—to just after Isabelle slipped from the palace and began her nocturnal outing.
Ian and the Latent Dragon Squad had finished surveying the slaughter site and headed to a tavern in Shurton.
Creeeak!
The well-oiled door swung open smoothly despite its size, unleashing a raucous burst of noise.
"Wahaha! So that's when I..."
"Pfft! This guy's full of hot air!"
Late as it was, plenty of patrons were knocking back drinks and chatting away.
Ian scanned the room, ignoring the vibe.
Ralph was the anxious one amid Ian's nonchalance.
"Boss, you really gonna sit here boozing? We got a mission!"
Smack!
Helena swatted Ralph's back.
"Quiet down! Boss has a plan. Can't have a big lug like you getting all timid!"
"Uh, no..."
As Helena reined Ralph in, Ian eyed the counter and strolled over.
Swipe!
The manager leisurely wiped glasses amid the bustle.
Ian sat, and the manager greeted him with a soft smile.
"Welcome. What'll it be?"
"Hm... Got any recommendations?"
"Lucky you. Fresh stock today. Take your time."
The manager slid over a menu. Ian skimmed it and pointed.
"This cocktail catches my eye."
Swipe!
"Glory of Aslan. That one."
It was peculiar.
Nothing was written where Ian pointed.
Yet neither Ian nor the manager batted an eye.
Instead, the patrons reacted oddly.
Scrape!
As if the rowdiness had been fake, they rose in unison, locked the door, and doused the lights.
"We've been expecting you, Young Lord Ian. We heard from the Prince."
"Then we can skip the preamble. How many suspicious types in Shurton right now?"
"Hmm, let's see... More than usual today."
Pour!
As the manager poured Ian's cocktail, the menu letters shifted and reformed into a list.
"...All these are suspects?"
Way too many.
"Haha, tail end of the festival, right? Hotter vibes mean more troublemakers... But the ones you care about, Young Lord, are at the top."
Tap!
The manager pointed to the top.
Unlike the rest, a few names glowed red.
"These...?"
"Names we know or dangerous vibes only. Mostly foreigners; palace has tails on some... But these unknowns? High risk. We'd like the Lichtenauer Martial Clan to handle one."
The manager nodded to a "patron," who approached Ian and bowed.
"Greetings. I filed the report on that one."
"Pleased to meet you. Hm..."
The man's confident face was striking.
Plain yet with oddly sparkling eyes.
Ian found himself asking.
"What's your name, by the way?"
No special reason. Just curiosity about someone with such contrasting aura.
The man lifted his head slightly and replied curtly.
"John."