Chapter 543: The Same Cards
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 543: The Same Cards
"Sit tight!"
Muen barked the order into the carriage. Before those inside could even respond, he snapped the reins violently.
The reins could hardly inflict any real pain on the iron-tough hide of a dragon-blood horse. However, deep within Muen’s pupils, at the edges of that swirling darkness, a few specks of golden starlight—so faint even Muen hadn't noticed them—flickered briefly.
Compared to that pitch-black sun, the golden specks were infinitesimal. Muen himself was unaware of their existence, yet the faint pressure they radiated felt like the presence of a true sovereign to the horses with dragon blood flowing in their veins!
The dragon-blood horses let out a piercing neigh and bolted forward at a suicidal pace.
A faint, pungent odor hung in the air.
It came from a beast-repelling potion, effective at driving away most mindless magical beasts. Naturally, it should have worked on horses with dragon blood as well.
But this time, the galloping horses acted as if they couldn't smell the foul stench at all, charging headlong into the deep, narrow alleyway.
The approaching shadows froze for a split second. It seemed even they hadn't expected their carefully prepared measures to fail so utterly.
But they reacted quickly, closing in at speeds that turned them into mere afterimages!
Figures began to emerge from the gloom, clad in black outfits that obscured even their gender.
"I see. It looks like the guys they're using now aren't the kind of disposable small fry we dealt with before," Muen remarked, his lips curling into a stiff smirk as he realized why these attackers were masking their identities. He snapped the reins again.
Sorry, old girl. I’ll give you the best feed and find you the wildest stallion after this, so just give me one more burst of power!
"Hiiiieee—!"
The dragon-blood horses' cry grew even more high-pitched. Their speed actually surged by another twenty to thirty percent, threatening to break through the enemy's encirclement in an instant.
But then, a metallic hum vibrated through the air, followed by a flash of cold, arc-shaped light.
A pitch-black spear shot toward them at a speed the naked eye could barely track.
Clang—!
The black spear punched straight through the defensive arrays surrounding the carriage and slammed into the cabin. The entire vehicle jolted violently. This time, the reinforced carriage failed to provide total protection; half the spearhead had buried itself inside the cabin!
"First it was Anti-Magic Arrows, now it’s full-on Anti-Magic Spears?" Muen’s eye twitched.
Made of the same material, a spear naturally carried far more kinetic energy and piercing power than a small arrow. But being forged from such precious anti-magic material also meant it was astronomically expensive!
"You bastards! Even if you're rich, this is just wasteful!"
As the son of a Duke, a playboy, a rich heir, and a professional seller of manors, Muen expressed his strongest condemnation and contempt for such extravagance.
What’s the point of relying on external tools? If you’ve got the guts, let’s settle this with our fists like real men!
The next moment, almost every man in black silently pulled a black spear from beneath their voluminous robes.
Apparently, they didn't care much about being "real men."
"Damn it!"
Muen’s expression stiffened for a moment. He yanked the reins, forcing the carriage into a series of sharp turns to evade.
"Your Highness, you’d better stay away from the walls, or you’re going to end up looking like a pincushion!" Muen yelled toward the back.
"I get the logic!"
After a brief silence, Prince Albert’s pained voice drifted out from the cabin:
"But tell me, how exactly am I supposed to sit tight and keep my balance without touching the walls?!"
"...That’s where you have to use that brilliant brain of yours, Highness!"
Muen couldn't afford to worry about Albert’s predicament for the moment. His movements grew more fluid as he pulled the reins, forcing the carriage into a high-difficulty tail-drift to make it harder for the enemies to aim.
However, the carriage was simply too large a target. Several spears still slammed home, pinning themselves into the wood.
The blood Muen feared seeing did not leak from the cabin, so he continued to drive the horses hard.
After the failure of the first volley, someone finally realized the horses were the better target.
Ping—!
With a crisp clatter, the spear aimed at the horse was deflected mid-air.
A look of horror crossed the thrower's eyes. To accurately intercept a high-speed projectile in mid-air—what kind of insane reaction speed and precision did that require?
"Heh. Trying to kill my horse right in front of me? How much are you looking down on me?"
Muen sneered, idly twirling a spear he had just plucked from the side of the carriage.
The man who had thrown the spear froze. It was as if the strength had been instantly drained from his body, and he slowly slumped over.
He looked down, staring in disbelief at his chest. At some point, a spear had driven clean through him.
When... did he...?
The question was destined to go unanswered as the light faded from his eyes.
"The timing should be about right."
Muen glanced sideways at the surrounding men in black, who seemed momentarily stunned by his counterattack.
Before the echoes of his words could fade into the wind, a sharp whistle pierced the air.
Then, the thick scent of blood began to spread.
Another group of hidden figures in black lunged from the shadows, clashing fiercely with the initial ambushers.
The newcomers naturally held the advantage of surprise over a group already focused on the carriage, and their individual strength seemed superior. The scales of battle tipped almost instantly.
Muen didn't stick around to watch the thrilling slaughter. He seized the opening to drive the carriage out of the danger zone.
"That should be the end of it for now. You guys okay?" Muen asked, lifting the curtain once the carriage had stabilized.
"I... I think so."
Inside the cabin, the two occupants looked as if they had just survived a violent wrestling match. Their clothes were disheveled, and they were gasping for breath.
"As long as you're fine."
Muen dropped the curtain, averting his eyes. "Get yourselves sorted out quickly. No telling what else we’ll run into."
"I hope it’s not more of that," Albert said, looking at the sharp spearheads protruding just inches from his scalp, his voice bordering on tears.
"You should feel lucky," Muen said. "The fact that they still need to use tools like these means they aren't the real trouble yet."
"Then... the real trouble..."
"Don't worry. The truly troublesome things aren't that easy to throw at us. After all..."
Muen let out a meaningful, cold chuckle.
"Sometimes, the cards everyone can play are pretty much the same. It’s just the suits that are different, isn't it?"
*
"Captain, what exactly is our mission this time?"
In the Lower District, on a secluded street, Seniel finally succumbed to his curiosity and asked in a low voice as their squad galloped along.
There weren't many of them—only about a dozen riders—but despite their horses lacking any special bloodline, they moved with incredible speed, as if skimming across the ground.
They wore black robes with hoods, looking no different from any other group of mysterious figures in this city. However, when the wind caught their robes, one could catch a glimpse of the prestigious platinum-and-gold uniforms beneath.
On their collars, the blooming golden iris symbolized their membership in a world-renowned organization.
The Royal Mage Corps.