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Only a single pane of glass separated them.
The group exchanged silent glances.
Outside the window, a mountain of corpses lay in a sea of blood.
Yet, no one was looking at the bodies—only at Allen.
The silence clung to the fractured flower-like patterns on the glass.
Allen wiped the blood from his face and shifted his gaze away from the corpse of what had once been the leader of this assassin group.
His torn sleeve hung loosely from his arm, swaying in the night breeze under the moonlight.
His voice, along with the wind, slipped through the holes left by thrown daggers and into the hall.
"You're all here. Faster than I expected."
Isolte looked at the corpses outside. Though she had anticipated this, she still shook her head and sighed.
"You're the one who's faster, Senior Brother. More precise than when you were challenging dojos. It seems the Sword God style—where momentum and intent drive the blade—suits you better than the Water God style."
Meanwhile, Sylphie glanced down at her bare feet and instinctively defended Allen.
"I think Allen has always been fast..."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Allen: Please stop talking.
His expression blank, he stared at the two women, lips parting slightly as if to argue before ultimately giving up.
Turning, he met the burning crimson gaze fixed on him and shook his head apologetically.
"Sorry, Eris. These assassins had too many tricks up their sleeves—too dangerous. I couldn't let you use them for practice. Once we reach the royal capital, there'll be safer opportunities at the dojo."
Eris pouted, a faint trace of dissatisfaction on her face. Her excitement hadn't been about Allen killing people—it was about getting another chance to witness the Sword God style in action. But not only had she missed the demonstration, her own chance to fight had been stolen when Allen used a North God throwing technique to pin the last assassin to a clock tower.
Still, her response was swift.
"Fine! Then it's settled—we'll do it in the royal capital!" She crossed her arms, her expression brightening instantly.
Rudeus, on the other hand, gulped. Unlike Eris, whose "displeasure" was clearly admiration and a playful sulk, or Isolte and Sylphie's subtle rivalry born of affection—his reason for staring at Allen was much simpler.
It kept him from looking at the mutilated corpses behind him.
His face was pale.
Outside, Allen swept the inn once more with his Detection skill, confirming that all the "guests" who had been staying here when they arrived were now dead.
A phrase he'd heard upon landing flashed through his mind.
'Formally hired… huh.'
Narrowing his eyes, he surveyed the surrounding corpses and spoke.
"The assassins cleared the area beforehand. That works in our favor—we don't have to rush the cleanup. Freeze the bodies with water magic, dump them in the trash, then bury everything with earth magic. By the time anyone finds them, we'll be long gone from Rainshear City."
He turned to Rudeus and Sylphie.
"I'll need your help again. Sorry, Rudeus. I didn't plan on leaving such a mess in Rainshear, but this assassination attempt was more intense than I expected. If I hadn't killed them quickly, some might've escaped. Plus… something unexpected came up."
He paused.
"Take your time adjusting. For now, could you handle the one on the clock tower? That should be easier—it's a girl with a nice figure, so it shouldn't be too hard to stomach."
Sylphie nodded.
Rudeus, however, froze. He stared blankly at Allen's "earnest" expression, twitched, then turned toward the clock tower.
—A lovely, shapely young woman's brains were splattered across its face.
Allen…
Are you even listening to yourself right now?
Keeping this "family" together is exhausting me…
Ugh—
As someone who frequently killed, and who had two mage wives and a water-saint-level mage best friend, Allen knew one thing:
Killing was easy. Disposing of bodies? Even easier.
And as it turned out, mages could clean up corpses faster, more efficiently, and with far less psychological toll than he'd imagined.
A single Frost Nova froze the ground, the thick layer of ice dulling the visceral horror of the bloodied remains. Then, sword aura and razor-sharp wind magic shredded the ice-encased bodies into slush. Earth magic mixed the frozen fragments with soil before dumping everything into the trash. Finally, water magic rinsed the ground clean.
Flawless.
—Rudeus' idea.
The NEET had a real talent for magic applications.
The entire process left the stone pavement spotless. Only a faint metallic tang lingered in the air—hardly noticeable in a water city like Rainshear.
Rudeus, Sylphie, and Eris handled it in record time.
The convenience of a sword-and-sorcery world.
Of course, the real heavy lifting was done by Rudeus and Sylphie. Eris mostly trailed behind them, studying the severed edges of the corpses to reconstruct Allen's sword movements before stepping in when needed.
Though Sylphie wasn't entirely focused.
Her eyes kept drifting toward a certain pair.
Allen and Isolte were crouched over a corpse, whispering.
"Do you recognize him? Someone this skilled shouldn't be a nobody."
Isolte studied the black-haired man's corpse—his neck twisted at an unnatural angle—and frowned. After a long moment, she shook her head.
"His face isn't familiar. If he had any notable traits, I'd remember."
"His skill was at Water King-level. But I've never seen him before."
Isolte's eyes widened. She quickly scanned Allen's attire—the slashes at his waist, sleeves, even collar.
Beneath the cuts, his skin was unmarked.
She exhaled in relief.
"Water King-level? Senior Brother… are you sure? Maybe he's from another country? If he were in Asura… it doesn't make sense…"
"It doesn't make sense for someone like him to be working as an assassin in a backwater like Rainshear. But I'm certain. If he hadn't been locking me down with close-quarters Water God techniques, intercepting my Light Blade, I wouldn't have had to end things so messily."
"But… a Water King, reduced to this…"
Allen fell silent, replaying the fragments of conversation he'd caught mid-fall.
"'Foul Blade'—ever heard of it? Probably his assassin alias."
Isolte started to shake her head, then paused.
"Foul Blade… Hunrin? Hunrin Retbart? Him?"
The name "Retbart" rang a faint bell, but Allen couldn't place it in his memories of the royal capital. He rubbed his chin.
"A play on the name, then? So you've met him in the capital?"
Isolte's expression grew complicated as she stared at the corpse. "Only by reputation. Late last year, he visited the capital. Grandmother conferred the Water King title upon him. I wasn't present."
Allen turned to her. They were crouched so close that the night breeze carried strands of her hair across his cheek.
Isolte tucked the stray locks behind her ear and met his gaze, waiting.
Allen scratched his cheek where her hair had tickled him, then suddenly glanced back.
The white-haired girl jerked her head away, pretending to focus on cleaning up corpses.
"Sylphie! Your wind blades are about to slice my foot off!"
"Ah! S-Sorry!"
"You— Ugh, just go over there if you want! I can handle this alone… Ugh…"
"W-What are you talking about, Rudeus?"
"Rudeus, you're so annoying! Next body!"
"??"
Allen motioned for Sylphie to join them, but she stubbornly ignored him, continuing her work with exaggerated focus.
Sighing, Allen exchanged an amused glance with Isolte before resuming.
"If Hunrin Retbart was knighted as a Water King, why didn't he join the Order? Why end up here as an assassin-for-hire?"
Isolte pondered the question.
"The Order never extended an invitation. Most likely due to the Retbart family's history. Forty years ago, they were a prominent noble house in the capital. But during the last succession conflict, they backed the wrong prince. When the tide turned, the family split in two."
"One branch stubbornly resisted in the capital, while the other surrendered and exiled themselves to preserve their lives. The result was brutal—the capital branch was purged by the current king, then the second prince. Hunrin was just a child at the time, studying abroad. Since he'd never been involved in the conflict, he was spared."
"The Order probably didn't invite him out of concern for the king's safety. Who knows if he held a grudge? After that, he vanished from the capital. And now… he's here. A hired killer."
"How tragic."
Allen raised an eyebrow.
"'Reduced to an assassin'… Still, why didn't the king wipe out the entire family?"
Isolte looked surprised.
"Why would he? If every political opponent were eradicated, Asura's succession conflicts would leave the nobility in shambles. Who would dare take sides then? How would the king evaluate the candidates' strategies to choose the next ruler?"
Allen blinked. Right—this was a sword-and-magic world. History and culture were nothing like his past life.
"Fair point."
A brief silence fell before they spoke simultaneously.
"Something's off."
"Something's off."
They paused. Allen sighed at Isolte unconsciously echoing his old catchphrase from their capital days, while she flushed slightly.
But the moment passed quickly. Allen continued:
"Given Hunrin Retbart's status, he had to know the Boreas family's influence. He'd understand that targeting me meant provoking them directly. And as a Water King, he wasn't the type to risk everything for money."
Isolte nodded.
"Right. Which means, as you'd say, the 'cost' of angering the Boreas family was outweighed by the 'reward' offered to him."
Allen added:
"Not just that. The resources James mobilized for this hit don't add up."
"First, the Night Lion Bandits—that fits James' reach, and Darius' shadow is there too. Since I… ahem…"
He pushed the image of the Man-God from his mind, fabricating another reason for Darius' involvement.
"Since my arrival in Roa severed his influence there, he naturally holds a grudge. And given James' opportunistic nature, he probably promised Darius the Boreas family's future submission. Darius would love seeing Sauros' descendant bow to him—hence their collaboration."
"The bandits were just mercenaries. Wein came from the conflict zones—they'd work for gold."
"That much is within James' capabilities."
"But by Rainshear, things changed."
"The assassins were too coordinated. A Water King stepping in as the lead attacker. It's all too strange."
"These aren't resources James should've had access to."
Allen reached out, trying to close Hunrin Retbart's eyes—wide with shock, fury, and unmistakable fear.
They refused to shut.
With a sigh, Allen stood.
"We're missing too much intel. But something else is definitely going on."
Isolte agreed.
Allen glanced at Eris and Sylphie in the distance, then back at Isolte.
After a pause, he said:
"Rainshear's night winds come from the mountains. The terrain's low, with currents working against us. The earliest boats leave at dawn tomorrow, right?"
Isolte nodded.
"Right."
"Then we'll depart first thing in the morning. A few more incidents like this, and forget the bodies being discovered—Sylphie and Rudeus will collapse from exhaustion before then."
Isolte didn't stand. Instead, she gazed up at Allen with a faint smile.
—His pride wasn't just palpable. It was overflowing.
But she didn't think him arrogant.
Because—
Thirteen years old.
A Sword King versed in three styles.
A man who'd slain thirty-one assassins in the time it took to descend a staircase.
The once-in-a-century genius her grandmother had spoken of.
He should be like this.
In the Asura Kingdom, the only one who posed a true threat to him was her grandmother. Even the Dawn Knights—the royal capital's elite force for handling threats beyond King-level—would need to rely on numbers to take him down.
And most importantly—
Her senior brother had said his Light Blade was intercepted by Hunrin's Water God techniques. That was why she'd panicked earlier. When she'd come downstairs, she'd assumed he'd used the Light Blade to swiftly end the fight.
But no.
The enemy was stronger than expected.
The situation had been dire.
Their strategy was clear—sacrifice their own counterattacks to shield the other assassins, creating openings to kill him.
A very Water God approach.
And yet?
Isolte's eyes flicked to the blood-soaked corpses scattered across the ground.
The cuts were distinctive.
Familiar, even.
Just how far has Senior Brother mastered the Five Secrets of the Water God style?
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Heavy footsteps approached.
Allen and Isolte turned.
Not Sylphie—but a certain little lion.
Eris stomped up to Allen, stopping right in front of him. She glared up, pointing at the corpse between them.
Her brow furrowed.
"The sword's path—the way it cuts! I don't get it! It's not Sword God style! Teach me!"
Isolte glanced at Eris, then at Allen.
He didn't answer immediately, simply ruffling Eris' hair.
His eyes, however, remained fixed on Hunrin Retbart's corpse.
The corpse did not respond.
In its lifeless pupils—
Reflected Allen's faint smile.
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