Noel's invisibility magic had finally reached a passable level—not yet fully mastered, but stable enough not to fail him at a critical moment.
Suddenly, a familiar figure appeared in the corridor carrying a tray of food. Noel recognized him immediately: it was Uncle Sam, who had been captured and forced to work here as a cook.
At first, Noel considered revealing himself to reunite, but he hesitated. If the leader of the Black Dusk guild discovered his connection to Uncle Sam, it would become a weakness—and Uncle Sam would become a hostage. Noel had promised himself he would bring Uncle Sam back safely, intact.
Uncle Sam set the tray down in front of the door and knocked gently.
"Your supper, sir."
There was no response from within, and Uncle Sam didn't linger. After setting the tray down, he quietly left.
Only then did Noel feel relieved. He positioned himself close to the door, ensuring that when it opened, he could slip inside unnoticed.
Whoever was inside would never suspect that in the instant they opened the door, someone would infiltrate their room.
The door creaked open silently, and the man inside looked oddly familiar. Noel couldn't place him immediately, but he knew they had crossed paths before.
"Swift Wind."
Noel didn't have time to reflect. He dashed inside in a blur, moving with barely a whisper. Karsis didn't notice a thing.
"What a draft… it's so cold." Karsis grumbled, but his mood improved when he noticed the meal on the floor.
"Supper tonight, hm? At least they're learning." Closing the door behind him, Karsis sighed, "It's always warmer indoors."
Noel hid in a concealed spot, waiting for the moment when Karlsis would be most relaxed to deliver a fatal strike.
Karsis sank into his chair, eyeing the food with disinterest. He wasn't hungry, and with the Magic Guild's reinforcements arriving soon, he felt restless.
Those guild idiots always paraded around like righteous saviors, painting people like him as villains. Karsis resented that narrative.
Still, soon this entire town would be his. He marked several points on the map.
"The defenses here are too thin… Tomorrow, I'll send Shuka over. That idiot's unreliable, but he can at least hold such an important strategic position."
Karsis spent a while rearranging the markers until satisfied, finally cracking a self-satisfied smile.
Noel decided that now was the perfect moment. With Swift Wind, he dashed directly in front of Karsis.
In his hand, a dagger formed from condensed wind elements thrust straight toward Karsis's heart.
"What the—someone's attacking me!"
Karsis felt a sudden, sharp pain, looking down to see a gaping, bloody wound in his chest.
"What the hell is happening?"
Karsis glanced at the blood on his hand, then at the wound near his heart. The attacker had clearly aimed to kill him with a single strike.
"Who the hell are you?! Why are you doing this?" Karsis shouted, unsure where the attacker was.
It had to be an assassin—silent footsteps, invisibility magic—a highly dangerous individual.
Seeing his ambush succeed, Noel canceled the invisibility spell, revealing himself before Karsis.
"Who are you?! Why have you come to assassinate me?" Karlsis demanded.
"I'm the one here to take your life. A man burdened with vengeance," Noel replied coldly. There was no need to say anything emotional to this man. It wasn't worth it.
"If I'm going to die, at least give me a reason!" Karlsis yelled.
"I'm here to avenge a friend. Your guild killed him in this town, and I'm here to collect your life for it."
Noel spoke calmly. He had expected himself to be more emotional, but surprisingly, he felt nothing but cold clarity.
"Now that I know your reason, that makes things simple," Karsis said, bracing himself against the wall.
"You've suffered a severe wound to your heart. Do you really think you can still fight me?" Noel asked, watching blood pour from Karsis's chest, feeling no pity—only grim satisfaction.
"Of course I can still fight. Taking down a brat like you will be no problem." Karsis's voice was steady, his face confident.
Noel wasn't sure where Karsis was getting this courage—maybe the so-called god of courage had blessed him.
"You aimed for the left side, but my heart is on the right. You miscalculated." Karsis smirked.
Realization dawned on Noel. Karsis's heart was on the opposite side from normal—a rare anatomical anomaly. If he had known, he would have gone for the carotid artery instead. This was his mistake.
"Flame Brand."
Flames gathered around Karsis's hand, forming a searing brand that pressed against the wound.
Sssst—a plume of smoke rose, the scent of burnt flesh filling the air. The bleeding stopped as the flesh charred black, sealing the wound.
Karsis didn't make a sound. Noel found himself involuntarily respecting him. This man truly had iron will.
He never imagined he would one day feel a hint of respect for a member of the Black Dusk guild.
"Assassination is a dishonorable tactic. Even I don't stoop to such cowardice," Karsis lectured like a stern elder.
"Maybe so, but it's better than torturing women. I remember you. We've met before." Noel's eyes glinted.
"Isn't that right, 'Steward'?" Noel spat out the last word with deliberate venom.
"How do you know about that?" Karlsis's interest was piqued.
"Because I was the beggar child you once gave alms to," Noel replied steadily. "You probably don't remember, but I will never forget."
"So the gutter rat from the slums came to assassinate me. How amusing… how ironic." Karlsis burst into laughter.
Noel was slightly surprised that Karlsis even remembered him. Apparently, he had left quite an impression.
"I admire your courage. But if you've come to kill me, you should also be prepared to die by my hand. That's fairness," Karlsis said, and his gaze changed.
A murderous aura emanated from him—one that could only come from a man who had killed countless people.
Noel did not flinch. He refused to be intimidated. He still held the advantage: Karlsis was wounded, forced to fight him in that condition.
"Flame Lash."
Flames appeared, forming into whips that lashed out toward Noel.
Noel's instincts screamed danger. Each whip was infused with volatile fire magic—one strike would tear him apart.
"Whirlwind."
Noel summoned a whirlwind, lifting himself into the air. Given his angle of ascent, the whips shouldn't have been able to strike him.
But the flame whips seemed almost alive, curving midair to pursue him relentlessly.
Was there anything in this room he could use? Noel's mind raced, calculating, but the constraints of the terrain were too severe.
If he tried to counter these flame whips with wind magic, the mana drain would be enormous.
What now? It was hard to decide.
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