A Barking Dog Needs a Leash
"That's the pin you gave us earlier."
Burren narrowed his eyes at the red pin resting on Raon's open palm.
"You told us to hang onto them so you could track our positions, right?"
He fished his own pin from his pocket and closed his fist around it. The other swordsmen produced theirs as well.
"That's right. They're charged with my aura, so I can tell where you are."
Raon nodded.
"And that's supposed to tell you where the princess and Inild are? Neither of them has a pin."
"They do."
"What?"
"Th-they do?"
"Is that true?"
"Why would Her Highness have one of those?!"
The moment the words left his mouth, it wasn't just the swordsmen. The mages' eyes flew wide as well.
"I slipped them into their clothes while they were unconscious."
Raon gave a faint chuckle and pinned the tracker back onto his collar.
"W-why would you even…?"
"How did you know to do that?"
Everyone in the conference room let out a helpless breath, as if they couldn't decide whether to laugh or throw up their hands.
"I figured that if I were one of the Five Demons, and I found out the princess and Inild had collapsed, I'd go after the two of them without a second thought."
"You… predicted that?"
"Predicted is a strong word. If nothing happened, fine. If a kidnapping did happen, I'd know exactly where to find them."
"Good lord…"
"This kid, I swear…"
At Raon's utterly matter-of-fact tone, people could only shake their heads. Rimer alone laced his fingers behind his skull, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Hold on."
Morell, who had been listening in silence, raised a hand.
"The skill you showed when you planted those pins was far too refined for a freshman swordsman. However…"
"Refined?"
"Do I really have to use formal speech even now…"
"Contracts exist to be kept."
"Ghk. It was… r-refined. But my artifacts were stripped away. There's no way your pins would still be there."
"No. They're still there."
Raon shook his head without a hint of doubt and pointed at the pin in Burren's hand.
"That pin is made of Fire Seal Iron. I seeped my aura into the heat already living inside the metal, so unless you're me, no one who looks at it will sense anything special."
"Mm. Now that you mention it…"
Morell swallowed dryly and gave a reluctant nod.
"I can't feel any energy from the pin at all."
Until Raon had spoken, he hadn't even realized aura was bound inside the thing. He had taken it for nothing more than a red pin.
What the hell is this kid?
Power that didn't belong to his age. Initiative to match. And now a contingency so complete it bordered on paranoia. None of it belonged to a recruit. A veteran, maybe. No — Morell could have believed this boy was the head of an entire organization.
He looks more like a squad leader than that delinquent elf.
Honestly, between the vacant-eyed Rimer standing over there and Raon, it was Raon who looked like the leader of the Light Wind Squad.
"One more thing."
Raon lifted a finger.
"I'm certain of Princess Jayna and Inild's location."
"Certain?"
"Yes. The Archbishop of the White Blood Cult that I fought. She's with them."
"What?"
"Y-you know where the Archbishop is too?"
The room shuddered. Eyes went sharp, then wild.
"How?"
"When I fought her, I planted a pin in her clothes as well."
"W-wait. You pinned her clothes. Mid-fight. Against an Archbishop?"
Burren let out a disbelieving laugh.
"That's right. I could have killed her there. I let her go on purpose. I needed to find the White Blood Cult's branch."
Raon nodded. Like a hunter releasing a rabbit so he could follow it back to the warren, he had deliberately spared the Archbishop to track down the branch. And the plan had worked exactly as designed.
"Where are they? We hit them now!"
Morell hiked up his robes and surged to his feet, already moving.
"Lord Morell and the Salamanders will need to remain here."
"What? Why would we—"
"Why would we?"
"W-why would we?!"
"As I said, the Archbishop's accomplice has teleportation magic. If they run, they'll jump into the heart of Forvan to throw off pursuit — or to take hostages. Someone has to stop that. And for a response on that scale, mages outperform swordsmen, do they not?"
"Even so, Her Highness and my disciple are in there! Of course we should go!"
"Right now we have to think bigger. The assault is our work. Citywide protection is what the Salamanders do best."
"But…"
Faced with Raon's unflinching, practical assessment, Morell couldn't argue. He bit down on his lip.
"On top of that, there may be people in that building who aren't White Blood Cultists. Distinguishing them in the middle of a magical bombardment would be nearly impossible."
"Kh…"
"If the princess and Inild are alive, I will bring them out. No matter what it takes. I swear it."
Raon's gaze went grave. He offered a swordsman's salute — a vow given in steel.
"Hah. Fine."
Morell let out a long breath, the sound of a man who knew he'd lost, and lowered his hand.
"Thank you. Then I'll leave the protection of all of Forvan in your hands."
Raon bowed his head to Morell, then turned to the Light Wind Squad.
"Let's go. We move before they figure out the pins exist."
He was out of the conference room before the last word had settled.
"Khrrrk…"
"Yes, sir!"
Marta ground her teeth and bolted after him. The rest of the Light Wind Squad followed, tension drawn tight across every face.
"Looks like there's nothing left for me to do."
Rimer rose at a leisurely pace, a sly smile tugging at his mouth.
"Rimer."
Morell caught the elf by the shoulder before he could leave.
"What the hell is that monster?"
Watching Raon overwhelm Inild and beat him into the dirt had been startling enough. This was a different order of shock entirely. He could not make himself believe that thing was seventeen years old.
He's even worse than ours…
Valkar had a young monster of its own, tucked carefully out of sight. Matching Raon in raw power might have been possible. Matching the cunning, the drive, the sheer operational instinct? Not a chance.
"Did the Northern Annihilation King raise him personally? How does a monster like that even happen?"
"Not a chance."
Rimer gave a quiet laugh.
"I gave him a little help, sure. But that kid grew up on his own. He stepped out from under my hand, and under the Patriarch's, and built himself."
"That's absurd…"
"You'd do well to watch him closely."
Rimer gave a lazy little wave and walked out of the hall.
"History, huh…"
Morell stared at the door Rimer had gone through and swallowed. On any other day he would have scoffed. For some reason, he had the unnerving sense that the elf's words would come true.
"Hah. Let's go. We've got our own work to do."
Weariness sat on his face as he gathered the Salamander mages and led them from the room.
Raon took Rimer and the Light Wind Squad to a hill that looked down on the place he suspected was the White Blood Cult's branch.
"There."
He pointed at the old, elegant mansion sitting at the foot of the slope. A merchant house in the northern quarter of Forvan City, well known for its charity.
A merchant family would have no shortage of carriages. Abducting people would have been convenient work.
"That's the White Blood Cult's…"
Marta's breath tore in and out of her, as if she were a heartbeat from charging down the hill alone. What lived in those dark eyes couldn't even be called killing intent. It was something older and uglier than that.
Worse than I thought.
She looked ready to throw her sword even if it killed her. He would need to keep a close eye on Marta in the fight to come.
"So that's the place."
Rimer scratched his chin and smacked his lips.
"We can't just hit it, though. Not everyone in there is going to be a cultist."
"We can."
Raon closed his hand around the Requiem Sword. It was screaming more violently than he had ever felt it scream.
"Except for the people locked in the basement, every last one of them is a White Blood Cultist."
"Huh? For real?"
"Yes."
The howling Requiem Sword told him everything he needed to know. Everyone in the mansion above ground had cultivated the White Blood Cult's aura. They were all cultists.
"Unit One takes the front. Unit Three hits the rear. Unit Two infiltrates from the right and gets the hostages out of the basement. Stay in Light Wind Formation at all times."
"And the left?"
"The squad leader and I will take it. We'll drop straight down the way Unit Two does and deal with the executives. I'll handle Celine. Squad Leader, I need you to take the one who used the teleportation magic. If we put him down fast, they can't run."
"That's easy enough. But…"
Rimer smacked his lips, looking faintly put out.
"Don't you think you sound more like the squad leader than I do? I have zero presence here."
"You never had any to begin with."
Burren snorted and waved him off. Runaan rose without a word. Marta unfurled a killing intent so thick it raised gooseflesh on the air.
"I'll take the first strike."
Raon reversed his grip on the Requiem Sword and ran down the hill. He drove the Cultivation of Ten Thousand Flames to its peak and threaded that power into the demonic current living inside the blade.
Petals of Ten Thousand Flames, laced with the Requiem Sword's demonic energy, bloomed across the sky and rained a bombardment of crimson fire upon the heart of the mansion.
Celine pulled on the Archbishop's coat — three stripes running down the center — and headed for Darigon's office. Darigon was already wearing his, smoothing his hair into place.
"I've been ready for ages. When the hell is he getting here?"
"He'll arrive shortly."
"I have to bow to that little brat. It makes my stomach turn."
"Watch your mouth. He may have been under you once, but he's the Cult Leader's disciple now. And he isn't coming alone."
"What?"
"The 10th Apostle will be accompanying him. A training exercise. Conduct yourself accordingly."
"That uptight bastard? Goddamn it. Nothing ever goes right."
Celine kneaded the arm that still hadn't fully reattached and ground her teeth.
"You stay here and watch those two."
Darigon finished smoothing his hair and pointed at Princess Jayna and Inild, bound against the wall.
"You want me to babysit the hostages?"
"Would you rather be the one to receive the Apostle?"
"Tch…"
Celine's face twisted. She gave a stiff nod.
"I'll bring them here. Do not get arrogant."
"I know. I know!"
"I'll be back."
Darigon drew a white hood over his head, hiding his face completely, and left the office.
"Fuck. How did I end up like this… ghk!"
Celine probed the wound where her shoulder had been torn open and clenched her jaw. She had taken blood energy from Darigon, and the injury still refused to close. The sword scar was vicious beyond reason.
That bastard…
Raon Zieghart. The thought that every ounce of this pain and humiliation traced back to that damned boy sent her blood boiling.
"I'm going to kill him. I'll kill every human connected to that bastard, no matter what it takes, and I'll drink their blood."
She was staring at the ruin of her arm, swearing her revenge, when it happened.
KRAAAAAANG!
A colossal explosion tore through the floors above. The entire basement shuddered as if the earth itself had split.
"Wh-what?!"
Celine's eyes flew wide. She stared at the ceiling.
The Apostle? No. Impossible.
If they were razing the branch, maybe. There was no world in which an Apostle would simply attack this mansion out of nowhere. Whatever this was, Darigon hadn't seen it coming. This was an emergency.
Then… ah!
The moment she felt the aura rolling down from above, Celine bit her lip until it bled. That overwhelming pressure. She had stood inside it only hours ago. It was Raon Zieghart's.
"Why the hell is that lunatic here?!"
She spun toward the door — and never made it.
KRAAAAAANG!
A second blast ripped through the ceiling. Stone and timber came down in a black rain of soot. Out of the settling dust, a voice she had never hated more in her life cut through the dark.
"So this is the White Blood Cult's branch."
"You…"
Through the falling dust, a pair of blood-red eyes flashed like drawn steel.
"R-Raon Zieghart! Why are you here?!"
The figure standing on the wreckage of the ceiling was the one she had wanted to tear apart with her teeth, by any means necessary. Raon Zieghart.
Raon looked at Celine's stunned face and let out a quiet laugh.
"Why? You told me yourself."
"What?"
"You put the coat on. You didn't change the clothes underneath."
He lifted a finger and pointed at the inner layer of the White Blood Cult coat she was wearing.
"Clothes?"
Celine's nose wrinkled. She stripped the coat off — and her eyes went huge at the red pin caught on the hem of the garment she'd been wearing all along.
"Wh-what is this?!"
"It comes as a set."
Raon smiled faintly and tapped the matching pin on his own collar.
"Thanks to you, I found the White Blood Cult's branch. I appreciate it."
"Ah…"
Celine's teeth clicked together. She stumbled a step back.
"Then you… you let me…"
"That's right. I let you go. If I'd killed you there, I would have lost my only lead to the branch. Looking at it now, I didn't even need to bother."
He glanced at Jayna and Inild hanging from the wall, and the smile that touched his mouth was thin and cold.
"I wouldn't try to run. Our squad leader is already hunting your partner."
"Oh, you're so clever. So damn clever! But there's one thing you don't know."
Celine's aura erupted, a white blaze roaring up over her shoulders.
"If you die here, it's all over!"
"Is that so."
The instant she reached for her blood arts, Raon stepped into the Supreme Harmony Footwork.
A single step, driven in a straight line. In an instant he crossed the space between them and arrived before Celine.
"Wh-what—"
"The chance I gave you is over."
"Kh!"
Celine wrenched the blood energy she'd gathered for an attack into a desperate guard. It meant nothing. The Requiem Sword's demonic current and the refined fire of Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation wove together, and a blaze of brilliant yellow flame swept the space between them.
A blade heavy with that power split her aura and tore through her forearm a second time.
"AAAAAGH!"
The pain ripped a scream out of her. Blood poured from the gash in a savage sheet.
"H-how…"
"I told you."
Raon spun the dagger in his hand, a cold smile on his mouth.
"Last time, I went easy."
"Sh-shut up!"
Some last instinct had jerked her arm back at the final instant, so it hadn't come off cleanly. Regeneration, though, was beyond her. The limb hung useless, spilling blood without end.
"Grrh, I'll kill you!"
Celine tore the skin from her own palms and clapped her hands together. Blood ran from her fists and wrists, gathering at the center, and a monstrous power began to boil.
"I took a look outside. Over two hundred people locked up down there."
Raon watched the energy coiling between her hands and tipped his chin toward the corridor.
"That many prisoners means you've drunk the blood of more than two hundred people, doesn't it?"
"What are you even talking about?!"
"It means you're not worth keeping alive."
"Bullshit! You're the one who dies here!"
Celine hurled the gathered blood energy forward.
Dozens of blood-aura strands twisted together like vines and drowned the room. There was nowhere to dodge, nowhere to fall back. The entire field of vision became a tidal wave of crimson.
Raon reset his grip on the Requiem Sword and drove Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation to its limit.
The blade's demonic energy painted a trail of yellow light through the air — the perfect cutting line through the blood aura. He laid the fire along that path, and a light of pure resentment surged from the blazing crimson edge and split the radiance of her blood arts clean in two.
"Th-that's impossible…"
Through the torn curtain of blood energy, Celine's eyes were wide. She looked down at the enormous hole that had opened in the left side of her chest and coughed a mouthful of dark blood.
"Ra-Raon Zieg…"
She never finished his name. She toppled backward, and her breath went out of her for good.
"The Requiem Sword really is the best thing to use against the White Blood Cult."
Raon ran his fingers along the blade, which seemed to be drinking Celine's blood. The Heavenly Sky Sword was a legendary weapon in its own right — but against the White Blood Cult, the Requiem Sword had no equal.
"Raon."
A soft voice from the doorway turned him around. Runaan and Dorian were there.
"Hostages are all out."
She gave a little wave, as if to say the job was done.
"Anyone hurt?"
"No."
"Good work. Get the people you rescued out of the mansion."
"Mm."
Runaan nodded and headed back toward the corridor.
"Then I'll just go with—"
"You stay."
Raon crooked a finger at Dorian, who had been about to follow her.
"Sir?"
"I have something to do."
He looked at Princess Jayna, still unconscious against the wall, and a chill little smile touched his mouth.
"A dog that barks every time we meet needs a leash."
Slap. Slap.
The sensation of someone striking her cheek pulled Jayna slowly back to consciousness.
"Huh?"
The first thing in front of her was the last face she wanted to see in this world. Raon Zieghart.
"What are you— why are you in front of my— wait."
She tried to move her hands and felt them catch on something. Her eyes went wide.
Overhead, her wrists and ankles were locked in shackles driven into the wall. She couldn't so much as twitch. The room itself was one she had never seen, and the ceiling and walls were shaking as if the whole place were about to come down.
"Wh-what is this?! Where am I? What did you do to me?!"
"This is a White Blood Cult branch."
Raon flicked the dagger in his hand and jerked his chin at the room.
"A W-White Blood Cult branch?"
"That's right. You're here because they kidnapped you."
"That's ridiculous—"
"Look around. You'll figure it out."
He pointed at the dark blood pooled across the floor and at Celine's corpse.
"Th-then what are you standing there for?! If you came to rescue me, get these off me already!"
"Why would I?"
Raon's eyes were ice. The corner of his mouth curled up.
"Wh-what?!"
"Why would I rescue someone whose head is so full of plans to come after me that there isn't room for anything else?"
"What kind of insane—"
"It's convenient, actually. If you die here, we can pin it on the White Blood Cult."
"Y-you're insane! You think Valkar will just sit still for that?"
"If the ceiling comes down and kills you, who's going to know?"
He pointed at the ceiling — holed through, shuddering, a collapse waiting to happen.
"Wh-why are you doing this?! Valkar and Zieghart are allies!"
Jayna's lips trembled.
"Allies on paper. In practice, we can't stand each other. You and I included. Right up until you got kidnapped, the only thing in your head was how to kill me, wasn't it?"
"Th-that's…"
"So. Goodbye."
Raon waggled his fingers in a little farewell and turned his back.
"Wait! S-save me! I won't come after you again. I'll pretend I don't even see you on the street. I'll do whatever you say. Please!"
She thrashed, and the ceiling and walls shook harder.
"Eek!"
"You mean that?"
"Yes! I won't even look at your shadow! Hurry!"
"I don't like the way you're talking to me."
"P-please save me! I'll do anything you tell me to!"
"You mean that?"
Raon smiled and held out a hand to the side.
"Special Contract."
"Ugh…"
Dorian let out a thin sigh and pulled a gold-leafed contract and a pen from his belly pouch. Even as he handed them over, he muttered that he didn't have everything.
"A S-Special Contract?"
"You know what it is. Your country made them."
Unlike an ordinary contract, a Special Contract was woven through with magic. Whatever was written on it had to be obeyed.
"This should do."
Raon wrote it out: Jayna Valkar would unconditionally fulfill three requests of Raon Zieghart's choosing.
"Sign."
"H-how am I supposed to sign something like this?!"
"This?"
"This… sir."
"You said you'd do as you were told."
"But this clause—"
"Fine. I'll add that I will never order anything that endangers your life. That enough?"
"Ah…"
"No? Then don't. Makes no difference to me."
Raon nodded as if he had nothing to lose and started to put the contract away. He pointed at the ceiling, which was boiling like a pot about to tip, and smiled faintly.
"You've got less than a minute. Say your goodbyes to the world."
"D-damn it!"
Jayna shrieked and shook her fingers as much as the shackles would allow.
"Fine! Fine, I'll sign!"
"You'll sign?"
"I-I'll sign, so… please."
"Excellent choice."
"Kh…"
Jayna Valkar shall unconditionally fulfill three requests of Raon Zieghart's choosing.
Raon Zieghart shall never command anything that would endanger Jayna Valkar's life.
Should the contract be broken, a devastating shock shall strike the offender's heart.
Raon held the contract out to the sobbing Jayna. Using only her fingers, she wrote her name on the signature line.
A pillar of golden light erupted from the page. Two luminous threads unfurled and sank into Raon and Jayna. If the contract went unfulfilled, a violent shock would strike Jayna's heart.
That grim cost was why Special Contracts were ruinously expensive, and why they were so rarely used.
"Now I suppose I should let you down."
Raon gave the dagger a casual flick. The cuffs and shackles holding Jayna shattered like brittle candy.
"Hhk…"
"While we're at it, I'll let you in on a secret of my own."
Jayna was clutching her wrists and ankles, which still burned with a raw ache, when Raon sheathed the dagger and straightened.
"A secret? What secret?"
"What?"
"Wh-what secret, sir?"
"That butterfly you bought at the auction."
He turned his back and kept talking.
"I took it. Sorry. Ah — it feels good to get that off my chest."
He left the room on those words. The more infuriating part was that the instant he was gone, the ceiling that had been a breath from collapse stopped shaking entirely.
"Ah. Ahh…"
Only then did Jayna understand what had been done to her. Her hands began to tremble.
"AAAAAGH!"
She screamed the name of the man who was now, without question, her enemy.