A Wraith Returned from Hell
"I-Intruder... ghk!"
The handler standing behind them tried to scream — and his head went flying.
"Hooo!"
Dorian stepped out from behind the falling body and shot a thumbs-up. His finger trembled faintly; the nerves had gotten to him.
"Don't pose."
Raon snorted a laugh and examined the two children in front of him. The wounds ran deep, but thankfully none were fatal.
"You held on well. Good work."
He stroked both their heads and used aura to stop the bleeding.
"W-who are you?"
The blue-haired girl who'd given her name as Fyne trembled her lips.
"Just a passing villain."
He couldn't reveal his identity. There was always the chance Derus might approach these children.
"A-a villain? But you said you'd give us our names back..."
"That's right. I'll find your names and get you out of this place. I'm a villain who hunts villains."
"Ah!"
Fyne's face crumpled in a way that was almost grotesque. Because of the emotional conditioning, she wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come.
Raon frowned. A bitter taste rose on his tongue as he looked at Fyne and the children standing behind her.
Damn it.
Those twisted faces — children who didn't even know what they were supposed to feel — made his stomach turn. It was like looking at his past self, the one who had killed No. 9.
I must have looked like this too.
No. It would have been worse. His past self had never been saved by anyone. He had buried his emotions completely. He wouldn't even have been able to make a face like theirs. He would have been smiling behind a pitch-black mask.
A low rumble rolled through the stone. Raon lifted his head toward the cavern ceiling. They'd noticed the disturbance — activity was picking up above and below.
They're coming.
Faster than expected. There was no time for a leisurely conversation with the children.
"Just wait a little."
Raon lowered his gaze and stimulated the mana circuits at the napes of both children's necks, putting them to sleep.
"W-wait..."
"By the time you wake up, it'll all be over."
He put the rest of the children frozen behind Fyne to sleep as well, gathered them in one place, then walked over to Dorian.
"Why'd you put the kids to sleep?"
Dorian tilted his head, looking at the children piled together.
"They're still under brainwashing. They might attack you even if you're trying to protect them. And..."
Raon's cold eyes turned toward the passage the assassins were approaching through.
"It's about to get messy."
Today, he intended to let his killing intent show without restraint. Scenes the children shouldn't have to witness were about to unfold. Putting them to sleep was the kinder choice.
"Ugh..."
Dorian poked one of the fallen children with a finger and swallowed dryly.
"Y-you did put them under properly, right? They won't wake up again, will they?"
"Don't worry. They won't."
Raon smiled faintly and turned his head.
"You can protect them?"
"O-of course."
The confidence in his voice was a little lacking, but that was just Dorian being Dorian.
Raon approached the entrance he'd come down through.
A sharp whistle of air cut the dark. Two masked figures burst from the side passages, bodies melting into the shadows as they charged.
Raon brought the longsword Dorian had given him straight down.
A wet, tearing crack. The longsword, carrying the principle of lethal swiftness, carved diagonally through the masked man charging from the right. A savage volume of blood erupted from the ragged wound.
"Ghk!"
The masked man on the left stabbed at the opening. Raon pivoted on his left foot and swept the longsword upward.
A shrieking clash of steel. The exquisitely honed blade tore the masked man in half along with his sword. He died without even managing a scream.
As Raon walked toward the passage, a black blade erupted from the shadow on the floor. The Black Shadow Sword — the assassination arts practiced by House Robert's operatives.
Without even turning around, Raon extended the longsword behind him and knocked the Black Shadow Sword aside. Using the rebound, he drew the blade down in a smooth, effortless arc.
"Guh..."
The assassin's head came off before he'd even fully extracted himself from the shadow.
A heavy rush of wind poured down from the upper passage connected to the orphanage. Handlers and assassins. No battle cries. They simply surged forward, swinging swords and daggers. Typical of assassins.
"Same as always. You never change."
Raon stamped his right foot in a true step and swept the longsword he'd held to the left in a horizontal arc. The blade, carrying the principles of Crushing Force and Swiftness, raised a crimson wave through the air.
A catastrophic rip. The bodies of the masked men who'd charged like lightning were split in half along with their weapons.
"Ah..."
"Urgh!"
"What the..."
The Shadows, trained through hellish conditioning never to scream, couldn't believe their own deaths as they tumbled into a sea of blood.
A wet splat. Raon stepped through the hot blood soaking the floor and came to a stop before the passage.
Every assassin who'd come down this way was dealt with. Now he needed to go up and cut down the man in charge — Lisbon.
"Dorian."
Raon looked back. Even Dorian hadn't flinched at the brutality — perhaps because of his own anger.
"Yes..."
"I'm counting on you."
With that, he climbed the stairs.
The instant he emerged from the stairwell, blades stabbed in from four directions. Swords laced with a dank, clammy aura targeted his heart and throat.
Raon kicked off the floor and launched himself upward.
A hiss of steel. The assassins had anticipated it — they immediately swept their swords upward. Their killing intent pressed against his skin like thorns.
Useless.
He brought the longsword down on the blades stabbing at him simultaneously, invoking the principle of the Absorption Technique.
A high, keening ring. The assassins' swords clung to his longsword for an instant, then all sprang away at once. Unable to withstand the rebound, they dropped their weapons, their grips torn open.
Raon spun in midair and brought the longsword down in a curving arc. Four heads were severed cleanly by a sword strike that fell like a shaft of light.
Raon's expression was vacant as he left the director's office. Every step he took painted a carpet of blood across the floor.
"Y-you bastard!"
The old woman at the exit brandished her staff. The orphanage director who'd been waiting for the children at the entrance. As expected, she was an officer of the Shadows — the one overseeing the brainwashing.
Flame erupted from her staff. The heat was so vicious the passageway melted like cheese.
Raon didn't give an inch. He raised a sword-wind against the overwhelming flames.
A blade of wind, honed to a razor's edge, split the storm of heat on a diagonal.
"W-who the hell are you?!"
The old woman glared, grinding her teeth.
"A dead woman talking."
"What nonsense..."
She stepped back, trying to cast again — and her body tilted at an angle. The same angle as the sword-wind's path.
"Y-you..."
The old woman stared with bulging eyes at her own body, split in half, then crumpled.
"There you are."
Raon turned quietly. A middle-aged man with deep blue hair and a scar on his left cheek stood there like a shadow. Lisbon. The handler who'd forced him to kill No. 9 in his previous life, and Matio's right-hand man.
"Not bad."
Lisbon lifted his chin, his eyes cold.
"How did you find this place?"
"I managed."
"Looking at you, you fancy yourself some champion of justice. You've taken the wrong road."
He drew the sword at his waist with a slowness that was almost tedious.
"Your family, your friends, your acquaintances — everyone you know will be dragged here and killed. All because of you."
Lisbon leveled his sword, his voice dripping with menace.
Of course they would.
Derus, Matio, Lisbon — they all played the part of magnanimous men to your face, then remembered every slight and paid it back from the shadows. Cheap, petty bastards. Those words, dripping with malice, were no bluff.
"I wonder if you'll still be running that mouth when the time comes."
Lisbon smiled coldly. He clearly thought Raon was some knight drunk on a sense of justice.
"Think I'm joking? This will actually happen. I won't kill you. I'll make you watch your family and friends die, and then I'll put a hole through your heart last."
"Is that so?"
Raon chuckled. Not a single person among the family and friends he'd gained in this life was someone to be taken lightly. If the likes of Lisbon went to House Zieghart, he'd be riddled with holes before he even crossed the front gate.
"Go ahead. If you can."
"Idiot."
Lisbon flicked his fingers and surged forward, shattering the floor. Dense Ganggi erupted from his sword, pressing down on Raon's entire body.
"I told you. You picked the wrong fight. It's too late for regrets!"
Lisbon seemed to think Raon was frightened. He sneered and brought his sword down. The Ganggi surging from his blade bent on a diagonal and crashed downward.
Raon dropped his center of gravity and stepped forward with his left foot. In the same instant, his blade shot out and smashed into the heart of Lisbon's Ganggi.
A catastrophic boom. The crimson flame Ganggi that erupted from an ordinary longsword shattered Lisbon's Ganggi and tore his arm clean off. Not even blood flowed from the shoulder seared by the heat.
"GRAAAAAAH!"
Lisbon let out a scream that sounded like his throat was tearing, staring at the right arm that had vanished so effortlessly. His eyes shook as if they might pop from their sockets.
It was overwhelming. Raon's martial power had already reached a level where he could crush a mere Low-rank Master without even using proper swordsmanship.
Raon closed in on the screaming Lisbon and struck him in the left chest. A measure to stun the Rage Worm embedded in the man's heart.
"Gahk!"
Lisbon slammed backward and rolled across the floor. He used the impact to step into a movement technique, darting the other way.
Th-this can't be!
He was the one who'd picked the wrong fight. A single exchange had been enough to know. He couldn't win. That thing was a monster no trick of his could defeat.
Damn it!
The boy hadn't looked that strong, so he'd planned to handle it first and then report to Derus. That had been a mistake. He should have sent word immediately, no matter what.
There's still a way out.
His specialty wasn't swordsmanship — it was footwork that used the shadows. If he used the Black Shadow Footwork, he could escape even this monster.
Lisbon pressed himself against the wall, preparing to hide in the shadows and move. The moment he tried to sink into the darkness, his body tilted and he collapsed to the floor.
W-what?!
His legs had no strength at all, and a pain like burning flesh washed over him. He forced his stiffened neck around to look behind him.
"Huh? AAAAAAAAH!"
At some point, both his legs had been severed. They lay scattered on the floor.
"M-my legs! Why are my legs—!"
"Pathetic."
"Urgh..."
Raon approached Lisbon with heavy steps. Every thud of his footsteps made Lisbon's entire body tremble.
"Your subordinates didn't scream once, even as they died. That's already your second."
"Th-that's..."
"Didn't you used to say that screaming is an assassin's shame?"
At those words, Lisbon's trembling grew worse. His teeth chattered as he lifted his head.
"H-how do you know that..."
"I heard it from you."
"Who the hell are you..."
"A wraith."
Raon smiled with a coldness that sent a chill down the spine, and raised his longsword.
He drove the sword straight down into Lisbon's left chest.
"Ghhk!"
He let the blade just barely graze the heart, so the man couldn't die immediately. A thin trickle of blood ran from his chest.
"AAAAAAAH!"
Lisbon screamed and thrashed, but the sword buried in his chest would not come free.
"Howl."
Raon clenched the longsword tight, his gaze chilling.
"So the children whose lives you stole can hear it. So the children who were buried without even being allowed to close their eyes can hear it. And..."
"Ghk..."
Lisbon's pupils warped at that mercilessly dry voice.
Howl for my nameless friend, wherever he is in the sky above.
He thought of No. 9, whose name he'd never even known, and tightened his grip on the sword.
"Y-you're one of the Shadows'..."
Raon twisted the longsword, tearing the wound wider. A hideous shriek erupted from Lisbon's mouth — a scream to soothe the wraiths.
"AAAAAAAAAAAH!"
After erasing every last trace, Raon went back down to the underground.
"I-is it over? I heard this incredible screaming..."
Dorian lowered his sword and swallowed dryly. Sword marks were carved into his shoulder and waist, and assassin corpses were piled beside him. It looked like he'd had a fairly hard fight.
"Yeah. They'll never do this kind of thing again."
Raon nodded and shoved the corpses in the basement toward the passage. He erased every possible trace.
"Should we wake the kids now?"
"Hmm..."
Raon looked at the children, who still hadn't woken. Tears had gathered at the corners of their eyes only after they'd fallen unconscious — as if that was when the hardship finally caught up to them.
"No. We can't take them with us anyway. Better to leave them to the people who'll be here soon."
"Will they treat them well?"
Dorian sighed and stroked the head of the child in front of him.
"I never knew there were kids living like this. I thought I'd had it pretty hard myself, but that was just me being spoiled."
He hung his head, looking embarrassed.
"You're you, and the kids are the kids."
Raon shook his head.
"Only you know your own hardships. There's no need to blame yourself."
"It is as he says."
Wrath climbed up onto the ice-flower bracelet and nodded. The little guy had been strangely quiet today.
"What matters is not the past, but the future. Tell that one to walk onward thinking of what lies ahead."
Raon chuckled and looked at Dorian.
"He says think about the future, not the past. What matters is moving forward."
"Who does?"
"A weird guy with a big appetite."
"This King is not a weird guy! This King is a proud demon!"
Sure, sure.
He nodded lightly.
"Hearing that... I feel a little better. Please tell the weird person I said thanks."
Dorian wiped the children's tears and smiled.
"Hmm..."
Raon looked up, narrowing his eyes. The clank of knights' armor was approaching from a distance. The presence felt familiar. It was Borini Kitten, the man he'd dueled not long ago.
"Time to go."
"Sir Borini Kitten is coming?"
"Yeah."
He nodded, scribbled something on two small slips of paper, left one on the platform and tucked the other into Fyne's pocket. Lastly, he set a pouch of gold coins beside them for the children.
"It's a little disappointing. I wanted to see these kids smile."
Dorian pulled every last cookie and piece of candy from his Belly Pouch and set them on the floor. Tears welled in his eyes.
"You'll see them soon enough. They're coming to House Zieghart."
"R-really?"
"Yeah."
Raon nodded and gestured.
"Let's go."
"Yes!"
They ran through the underground passage attached to the cavern, careful not to cross paths with Borini Kitten. Just as they were about to leave, the Demonic Eye of Wrath picked out a small room behind the wall.
"Hmm?"
Raon stopped at the sight of the bookshelf. A smile bloomed at the corner of his mouth.
"Looks like they want to throw in some loot, too."
Borini Kitten swallowed dryly as he looked at the orphanage called the House of Cloud.
Is this place really raising assassins?
When someone had infiltrated his room without anyone noticing and left a letter, he'd intended to ignore it no matter what it said. But the moment he read the contents, his body had moved on its own.
It said they were kidnapping young children and breeding them as assassins.
As a knight, that was something he could never overlook. Any thought of ignoring it had vanished instantly.
The letter had mentioned there might be spies, so he'd brought only those among the Silver Knights he could trust and ridden here at full speed.
"Could it be true?"
"We'll know when we get there. Though... there's barely any presence."
Borini Kitten patted his subordinate knight on the back and headed inside.
"Blood?"
The floor inside the orphanage building was soaked with blood, and corpses slashed by swords were piled in the corners. But the blood belonged to masked men who had no business being here.
"Nnh..."
Borini Kitten bit his lip.
So it was true.
Corpses that hadn't been dead long still retained the temperament they'd had in life. The only energy remaining in these bodies was the dank, clammy quality an assassin would possess.
"Search the place."
"Yes, sir!"
At Borini Kitten's order, the knights scattered in all directions.
"There's a staircase leading underground over here."
Borini Kitten followed his subordinate's words into the director's office. A passage leading below stood open in the blood-soaked floor.
"Let's go."
Borini Kitten descended the stairs, tense. It was a long way down before his feet finally touched the floor.
"Hah!"
"Ah..."
The two of them trembled at the jaw, staring at the blood covering the floor and the children lying collapsed.
"Good God!"
Borini Kitten rushed over and examined the children.
"Haa..."
They were alive. Fortunately, not a single child was dead. All of them had been put to sleep by stimulating their mana circuits. It had to be the work of whoever wrote that note.
"Nnh..."
Having recovered a little composure, Borini Kitten looked over the children's condition.
They're in bad shape.
All of them wore tattered clothes, and though their faces were clean, their bodies were covered in stab wounds. The fact that every child had scars in the same places made it clear these were traces of assassin training.
"There are things that look like torture implements over here."
"Ah — there's a room piled with children's bones as well."
"There's a children's room, but it's barely fit for a human to live in..."
With every report from the knights, rage welled up until he had no choice but to clench his fists.
"Damn it..."
Honestly, he'd hoped the contents of that note would turn out to be fake. If it were true, it would be too wretched, too cruel. But that hope had not been granted. This place was a hell for raising children as assassins.
"Haa..."
Borini Kitten stood and let out a sigh. Frowning, he turned — and a piece of paper sitting on the platform caught his eye. It was folded into a triangle, just like the one that had been left in his room.
Did that person leave this?
He unfolded the paper. The handwriting belonged to the one who'd brought him here.
Someone will come soon to treat the children. Until then, I leave them in your care.
It seemed to be a request to protect the children.
Borini Kitten's hands trembled as he looked at the paper.
"So he just wants me to handle the aftermath."
Honestly, he felt relieved. If these children had been held as hostages, he wouldn't have been able to move properly.
There's money, too.
The pouch of gold coins beside the paper was clearly meant to be used for the children.
"What should we do?"
"Wake them carefully. We're taking all of them."
"Investigate the traces here as well. We need to find out who's behind this."
"Yes, sir!"
The knights split in half — some waking the children, others continuing to gather evidence.
"Nnh..."
No. 45 felt someone's touch and opened her eyes.
Is it him?
She lifted her head, thinking it was the tall man who'd cut down Handler No. 4 at the end. But a knight in silver armor she'd never seen before was holding her by the shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
"Ah, yes..."
She answered and turned her head. The man who'd saved her was nowhere to be seen — only knights moving about.
Was it a dream?
No. The warmth of him stroking her head was still there. That warmth couldn't have been a dream.
"No. 45..."
As she clenched her fists, a faintly trembling voice reached her. She turned her head, and No. 86 was looking her way. Tears welled and rolled from the corners of her eyes.
"No. 86!"
No. 45 bit her lip, ran over, and pulled No. 86 into her arms.
"Nnh..."
The knight's face hardened, apparently shocked to hear them calling each other by numbers. He let out a deep sigh and approached.
"My name is Borini Kitten. I am a knight of Owen."
He slowly held out both hands.
"Ah..."
No. 45 couldn't take his hand. She knew what kind of man Borini Kitten was, but she was afraid that following him might lead to something like this place all over again.
"Um..."
As she trembled, not knowing what to do, a neatly folded note fell from her pocket. She picked it up and found writing on it.
We'll meet again. Follow the knights.
This is...
She knew who'd written it. The person who'd saved them. The one who'd promised to find their names.
No. 45 carefully folded the paper and put it back in her pocket. Thinking of that person, she found her courage and took the knight's hand.
"Yes. I'll go."