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The morning sun rose over Raftfleet, piercing through the lingering mist.
The river had yet to warm.
Intestines, lungs, pancreas, stomach, brain—
Organs that had miraculously avoided being severed now floated to the surface, escaping the gas-filled cavities of bisected corpses.
Legs, arms, livers, gallbladders, bones—
And yet, far more of the mutilated bodies, their blood seeping into the currents, sank unnoticed to the riverbed.
The mountain breeze still howled across the water.
Its voice echoed over the docks.
"The princess has been attacked."
"Until we confirm there are no remaining threats, no one is to cross past these two corpses."
The words, carried by the blood-scented wind, reached both shores. The crowd stood in stunned silence. The same message drifted across the bridge to Isolte's ears, and her legs nearly gave out beneath her. She collapsed onto the broken bridge, its uneven bricks mirroring the turmoil in her heart.
Rudeus understood her feelings. Even with full confidence in Allen, the way Allen had shoved him aside had triggered memories of his fall into the snowy ravine. He had already slumped to the ground, his legs trembling long after the battle was decided.
But one person remained oblivious to her own earlier panic.
"I knew it!" Eris crossed her arms and nodded, the frantic energy of a startled lioness vanishing in an instant. A smug grin tugged at her lips.
When Allen glanced her way, she flashed him a trademark "Eris Smile"—a pouty, upward curl of her lips.
Sylphie, having finally torn her gaze away from Allen, leaned in and whispered to Isolte:
"Allen... he's amazing, isn't he? He'll be fine."
Isolte turned to see Sylphie's eyes shining with pride—"See? My Allen is incredible!"—and could only shake her head with a wry smile.
I lost again.
"Sorry, I panicked..."
Sylphie smiled softly, her white hair dancing in the blood-tinged wind.
Yet she looked serene.
Mimicking Isolte's tilted-head gesture, she pressed her lips together in a gentle grin.
"I understand."
"It's okay."
——
The city guard had already boarded the ship, yet no one moved. Allen's "warning" had left them frozen in place, their roles suddenly reversed. They stood dumbly on deck, unsure whether to advance or retreat.
Shouldn't WE be the ones saying that? What's going on?
Their eyes dropped to the floating body parts in the water.
No, no mistake here.
He's terrifying.
So he's right.
Most of the city guards were only intermediate-level swordsmen, and the situation had left them utterly bewildered. Still, they managed a rough assessment.
Even if they couldn't see how so many corpses had surfaced, even if they couldn't track Allen's movements—the stench of blood carried the truth.
—The assassination attempt on Princess Ariel had been meticulously planned.
Yet in mere seconds, this carefully orchestrated ambush had been obliterated by sheer, overwhelming force.
That monster on the third deck... is horrifyingly strong.
Is he King-tier?
Do King-tier fighters even have this kind of power?
Never seen one. No idea.
But among the guards were a few noble-born youths who had seen the world. A suspicion flickered in their minds.
The Knight Order…
The elite knights directly under the king's command in the capital…
The Dawn Brigade.
Allen's shadow stretched long across the deck as he wiped the blood from his face, then roughly slicked back his tangled, sticky hair.
With his vision clear, he narrowed his eyes at the river.
Flow Sense rippled outward—from the deck, down the ship's hull, past the third, second, and first floors, until it met the water's surface.
But it could not penetrate.
Unlike wind or sound, water did not carry information back to him. The moment Allen left the river, his Flow Sense lost all perception of what lay beneath.
Still, every detail aboard the ship remained vivid in his mind.
Below the third deck, the corpses of slain guards lay silent. The heartbeats of the survivors thundered in his ears, their gazes fixed on him.
No killing intent.
Above the third deck, the clash of wind and blood-scented river air brushed against his cheeks. Behind the closed cabin door, two rapid heartbeats. Two ragged breaths.
A thick, palpable bloodlust seeped through the wood.
He tore his gaze from the river and turned toward the door.
His hand settled on the handle.
Just then, the mayor's voice rang out from the docks, as if snapping out of a dream.
"City guards! By order! Board the ship and take over Princess Ariel's protection!"
The guards might have mistaken Allen for a royal escort, but the mayor of this satellite city of Ars knew better.
The Dawn Brigade served one purpose and one purpose only:
To obey the king's orders and protect the king alone. Nothing else.
The king's orders?
Preposterous.
At the height of the succession struggle, the king would never provide such babysitting services to his children.
If every prince and princess had a personal guard, what would be the point of the competition? To see who could gather the most sycophants? The most noble supporters?
Don't make me laugh!
This man was no royal guard—just a passerby with terrifying strength! Maybe even an adventurer looking to take advantage of the princess. If he succeeded under the public eye…
Princess Ariel might as well be dead!
"Sir! We are deeply grateful for your heroic intervention! From this moment on, Raftfleet assumes responsibility for Her Highness's safety! You will be duly rewarded! Asura, its people, and Raftfleet will never forget your deeds!"
The guards stiffened.
They instantly grasped the mayor's implication—this monster really was just a bystander? And from Raftfleet's perspective, while he had slaughtered the assassins… wasn't he just as much a threat to the princess as they had been?
Realization dawned.
Schiiing!
Blades slid from sheaths as the guards took a synchronized step forward.
The man on the third deck—still gripping the door handle—turned his head slightly.
Clack.
The swords went back in.
The guards retreated in unison.
Some studied the deck. Others examined the corpses. A few pretended to tend to the wounded.
As if they had never moved at all.
The mayor on the docks nearly exploded. He flailed his arms, bellowing at every guard in sight.
"City guards! By order! Forcefully take over the princess's protection! This is a command!"
Creeak.
At that moment, a ship's window slid open.
Every head turned toward the third deck.
Golden hair cascaded over her shoulders as Princess Ariel pushed open the window and leaned out, waving cheerfully.
Tilting her head, she announced:
"No need for alarm~ He—Allen Boreas Greyrat—is indeed my knight, Ariel Anemoi Asura."
Then she beckoned to the crowd onshore.
"Everyone, don't worry! In a kingdom as beautiful as Asura, how could villains prevail? The sun has risen, and all filth is laid bare in its light!"
Though still young, her sharp political instincts and the poise of the "Kingdom's Most Beautiful Princess" allowed her to seize the moment—turning this gruesome scene into an opportunity.
A fresh cut marred her cheek, blood still trickling down. Yet her expression radiated such warmth and charm that the wound seemed irrelevant.
Allen raised an eyebrow.
As the crowd's murmurs grew, Isolte and Sylphie—still on the bridge—gaped in shock. Just as they had begun to calm down, Ariel's performance sent them reeling again.
The mayor exhaled in relief—then froze.
B-Boreas?! Allen Boreas Greyrat?!
His head snapped toward Allen, eyes bulging. He frantically scanned the area but found no sign of the nobleman who had visited Raftfleet days prior.
Isn't that the long-lost third son of James Boreas Greyrat?
But isn't Lord James aligned with the First Prince?
What in the world is happening?
Playing both sides? Doesn't Lord James fear the backlash?
Meanwhile, the crowd's excitement reached a fever pitch. The initial shock gave way to cheers—first from a few women screaming and waving, then swelling into a deafening roar.
"Princess Ariel!!"
"Your Highness, look at me!!"
"Sir Knight!!"
"Marry me!!"
"I live at 97 Third District Street! My husband won't be home tonight!!"
"Hey! Mills, I'm right here!"
"It's fine, dear! You were calling for Her Highness too—it's not like I mean it!"
"Ah, true… Princess Ariel!! I want to be your knight too!! Look at me!!"
The kingdom's most beautiful princess, saved at the last moment by a dashing noble knight—it was a scene straight out of a fairy tale, igniting the imaginations of citizens long oppressed by the nobility.
It was everything the Asuran propaganda machine could ever want.
Ariel waved graciously before ducking back inside, the window snapping shut behind her.
The crowd's cheers shook the docks.
Allen, however, glanced once more at the river. Then up at the bridge, where Isolte, Sylphie, Eris, and Rudeus stared at him in shock. The ship's anchor had snapped, and the vessel now drifted beneath the arched Kublai Bridge, carried by the wind.
Allen twisted the doorknob.
Stepped inside.
Click.
The noise of the outside world faded.
His gaze swept the cabin.
"You adapt quickly—"
"Huh????????"
The next second, his eyes widened in disbelief.
The ruthless killer who had butchered assassins without blinking now stood speechless.
In his line of sight—
Ariel sat on the bed in nothing but a shirt, her legs folded beneath her in a "seiza" position, her thighs pale and exposed.
Plip. Plip.
Blood dripped from her chin onto her bare skin.
When she noticed Allen enter, she didn't even react to her state of undress—just sighed in relief. Then stiffened.
Her blue eyes flicked to the side.
A blade pressed against her throat.
Gulp.
Ariel swallowed hard, her earlier composure gone. She looked at Allen with naked panic.
Allen's eyebrow twitched. He instinctively raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"DON'T MOVE!!"
The slurred command came from the "maid" beside Ariel, who glared at Allen while gripping the dagger.
She, however, was the real spectacle.
Wearing only underwear—a stark contrast to Ariel, who had forgone pants entirely.
Allen's mouth twisted.
"What's the point? You had countless chances to kill her earlier. Why wait?"
Ariel—still a young girl, not yet the unshakable princess of the future—gaped at him in disbelief.
The well-endowed assassin-maid frowned, her lips glistening with saliva.
"I wanna live."
Allen smirked. But with his blood-streaked face, the expression looked more like a predator baring its teeth.
The knife dug deeper. A thin line of red trailed down Ariel's neck.
Allen's smile vanished. His fingers flexed as he stared coldly at the blade.
"Oh? And how do you plan to live? Why are you lisping?"
"SHUDDUP! We got a boat! Take the princess, get to shore, kill her there! No—you let me go, I give her back!"
"I don't want her. Where's the boat?"
Both the maid and Ariel flinched. The assassin's eyes flicked toward the western window. Ariel, meanwhile, blinked rapidly at Allen—pleading, apologetic, as if regretting her earlier stunt.
In the next instant—
Like a skipped frame, Allen's arm snapped up, finger pointed at the western window.
BANG!
A burst of Touki blasted the entire window off its hinges.
Allen peered at the distant fishing boats, grinning.
"One of those?"
The assassin's face paled. Her grip on the dagger tightened—
But it never moved.
Because Allen's blood-smeared face was suddenly right in front of hers.
Close enough to see every fleck of red.
Smiling.
Wide.
And cruel.
SNAP.
He wrenched her wrist back, shattering bone. The maid's lips split as she bit down in agony, her free hand clawing at her ruined arm in a last, desperate bid for survival.
Ariel tried to scramble away, but her legs refused to obey. She could only watch as Allen—
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