A person, Isaac solemnly looked around his surroundings, who? There were two options—either one of his teammates or someone new.
If it was Camilla, it meant that she was a part of her father's betrayal.
If it was Randal or Vane, it meant that their impulsive behaviors were intended, to divide the team and create a scenario where they could be isolated with their target.
However, Isaac, while not entirely sure about Camilla, was quite certain that Randal and Vane weren't the culprits. The expressions he read off their faces were true, and he trusted his precision over reading expressions, for his senses of sight and cognition were backed up by [The Prism].
Furthermore, the assessor Howe died from poison. He wouldn't assume that someone as egoistic as Camilla would rely on such tools. If anything, she would despise relying on anything but her skill.
This left him with the idea that there was a third party in these ruins, and killing the assessor had been their first move.
Isaac touched the dead body by the neck with the tips of his fingers. It was still warm as if the man was alive. It wasn't long before the assessor's death. Warm. His face tightened. Far too warm. Again, the half of the body was in the shade, and the sand underneath was cool unlike those that were exposed to the sunlight. The post-mortem body shouldn't have been this warm.
This meant that the enemy—responsible for killing the assessor—was nearby.
Just as such a thought crossed Isaac, his breathing stopped. His eyes widened.
It was something miniscule. Something that almost bypassed his sensations. Instinctively, he accelerated the cognition. The world around him slowed down the moment he blinked his eyes.
This is…! Through the corner of his eyes, Isaac found a sharp dart on his way. Small, silent but lethal. He identified that its surface was covered in an unknown solution—likely the same poison that killed the assessor.
There was no mana involved. Isaac only caught on to it last second before it managed to strike him because of the slightest noise of whoosh that he heard through the wind that muffled it out.
It was ridiculous. Whoever was responsible for this dart relied on nothing but mechanical skills to shoot it at him, calculating the influence of wind as they did so.
A hitman. Veteran at that. Isaac solemnly gazed at the dart.
[Condensation].
The dart is sharp, but at the same time, light. It is sharp enough to penetrate through the wind, but light enough for water of enough density to prevent its approach.
As Isaac manifested his skill, a waterdrop condensed directly at his back, hovering right on the trajectory path it would take.
Time resumed. The dart moved. As the dart met the waterdrop, was stopped and contained by it before it fell alongside the water that lost its invisible hovering force in the air, Isaac ran.
Swiftly, Isaac hid behind a boulder with his back to it. Reaching his nose, he flicked off the blood that was trickling down from it.
A stock has already been used. Isaac grimaced.
Over the course of the past two months, one that Isaac ensured to test was his current limit in the use of cognition acceleration—which was probably the most demanding ability among his arsenal.
The result was simple. Seven times, thirty seconds each. Should he use it for the eighth time or dwell in the accelerated phase for longer than thirty seconds in his perception, he would black out. After a good night's sleep, the stock would be restored.
Just now, he was forced to use one. He was left with six. Considering Red Wolf's presence, using up all the stock in this battle would be risky. Trying to save it up against this silent hitman would also be risky. Forming a plan was pointless. He needed to see and adjust accordingly.
Then, there was the dart just now. The fact that he caught it last second meant that there was no mana signature—which [The Prism] would've caught immediately. The fact that the dart was able to fly through the wind, exactly toward him, meant that it travelled at a speed that can only be achieved through the use of a tool.
Isaac breathed slowly. Predict the enemy's next move. Currently, he was hidden behind the boulder. If the enemy had a skill potent enough to destroy this boulder, he would've done so already. The fact that there was no action up until now probably meant that the enemy was adjusting their position. There were two reasons to reposition: one was that dart's trajectory path revealed their location, and another was that they needed to find a different angle to strike him.
Once the reposition is complete, the enemy would strike again. In striking him, there would be three possibilities: skill manifestation, dart once more, or a different kind of ranged weapon—
No, dart must be the only ranged tool that they got. Isaac shut down the third option. The existing types of portable ranged tools that I currently can think of are bows, blowpipes, and hand cannons. Bow and hand cannons are loud, and given the scarcity of metals in the kingdom, hand cannons are highly unlikely. Furthermore, the speed of the dart, that was on my way just before, seems to match that of arrows. Bow isn't necessary either.
Isaac frowned. He still couldn't sense the enemy, which meant that the enemy was far outside what his enhanced senses could perceive. Was it that they have a skill that enables a far sight, or that they haven't yet found me either? His gut told him that the latter option was more likely. The fact that their first attempt with the dart failed may have been shocking. They may be thinking extensively just like him.
As soon as such a thought reached him, he unsheathed his knife. Stabbed it on the sand before quickly relocating himself from the boulder to a wall that was available just a couple meters away.
The knife's blade received and reflected the sun's ray. It was an indication of Isaac's location, or so would any careless individual think.
However, this was someone who was well-versed in assassination. They knew that Isaac was trying to lure them. Isaac knew that this won't be enough to lure them.
The point was to provide information. The enemy knew that Isaac must be somewhere around. Isaac knew that as long as the enemy needs to kill him, they would approach the light.
What the enemy didn't know was how extensive and precise his senses were, thanks to [The Prism]. Once he had grown accustomed to the whistling noises of the wind, he was able to rule it out precisely to focus on the background noises that normally won't be heard.
Now, reveal yourself— Isaac froze. A slight whistling noise, once again, from his back. He accelerated his cognition at the last second, once again, and found the same dart, just centimeters away from puncturing his skin. What?
He quickly manifested [Condensation]. He encased the dart with the same, dense water drop. Once he released the acceleration of his cognition, he turned and sprinted toward the path that the dart flew from.
Still, nothing alive was registered by his senses. Instead, upon arrival, another dart came in his way, which he recognized early enough this time around and dodged without needing to accelerate his cognition.
Wiping the blood below his nose, Isaac's eyes darted as he decided against chasing after the dart continuously. It could turn the battle into a game of cat-and-mouse, and it would require him to waste a great degree of stamina. Given how the enemy seemed to be a professional hitman, they likely have more stamina than him with his slim physique.
Solemnly, Isaac positioned himself behind a near-most wall. He knew that his current position was known by the enemy. He knew that the enemy knew a dart attack likely won't work on him.
I can't sense the enemy. The enemy can see me.
If such were to be a case, it was enough to confirm that the enemy has a skill related to far sight or noise suppression.
Or… both.
There was no further attack from the enemy. They knew that they were the ones holding a trigger.
Who knows for how long this silence will continue? It may continue for days. Isaac won't be able to rest properly, since the moment he goes to sleep, he will be struck. Gradually, he will be exhausted. When he is at his weakest, the enemy will strike—and during that time, he will be done for.
This meant that Isaac needed to deal with this matter here and now.
That meant that he needed to locate the enemy no matter what.
Question is, how?
I need to remove myself from his sight entirely.
However, the usage of mirage application—which is the most prominent method to achieve this exact goal—was unlikely to work. It was because he already showcased it in public; the enemy was likely aware of it.
Therefore, he needed to think of something different. Something that the enemy has never seen before.
Condensation, evaporation, water— The list of relevant terms swept through Isaac's mind. Pressure. Temperature.
No one but him understood the full extent of the skill, [Condensation]. In essence, it was the ability that manipulated pressure and temperature, albeit at a very weak scale.
Thanks to the mana thread method that allowed Isaac to minimize internal friction and therefore generate a phenomenal mana output, he was able to operate [Condensation] at a scale larger than what it's typically known for—such as generating an entire cup of water rather than a single drop.
However, he now realized in this tense situation, that he hasn't even been utilizing half the potential of this skill. Again, [Condensation] was about pressure and temperature.
There was no need for him to be trapped within the scope of 'water.'
Slowly, Isaac leaned down. Placed his hand on the sand. Closed his eyes. Breathed. Focused.
The world around him slowed down, the indication of his third use of cognition acceleration.
[Condensation].
There was no fluid. No vapor. What he was doing was simple: the consecutive and repetitive temperature elevation of the tiny air pocket within the layer of sand. He was heating up the air pocket to an abnormal degree such that once the speed of the world around him returns to normal, it would instantly expand and cause the eruption of sand.
Four times left. Grimacing, Isaac released the acceleration. As the world returned to its natural speed, his surroundings were instantly filled with nothing but sand and dust.
Quickly wiping the blood—generated as the consequence of accelerating his cognition—below his nose, Isaac took this opportunity to slip into the open gap below that was quickly being filled back with the sand. Placed his hands on top of his face to secure the breathing room. Within seconds, he was completely buried within the hot, scorching sand.
It was an insane idea. Not only would someone be subjected to a heatstroke or worse, but would suffocate in this air-scarce environment. However, Isaac was different. [Condensation] regulated the heat around him by lowering the temperature. Provided him the necessary oxygen by applying pressure onto the ambient air pockets, to have them flow toward his breathing room.
It won't last long. But it was long enough nonetheless.
Isaac, still below, heard the sound of the rustling sand. Heard the sound of the whistling wind. Heard nothing else. Felt nothing but the cooled sensation of the sand.
However, he sensed it through [The Prism]. The mana signature.
The enemy was silent. There was no sound. However, the mana spike indicated their presence. This confirmed Isaac's theory—that the enemy's skill is about silencing oneself.
Isaac waited patiently. Then, the moment the mana spike was right above him, he erupted out of the sand. Grabbed the enemy by the ankle.
In a split second, he was standing within the cloud of sand that was the product of those that were splattered from his eruption, with the enemy being flipped upside down due to his hold over the enemy's ankle.
Clearly, the enemy was shocked, evident from his expression. Yes, said enemy was a man, at least forties in terms of appearance. Bald, and facial hair was minimal—likely to minimize leaving evidences that could be traced back to him. Rather short and slim, built for speed rather than strength.
Releasing his hold over the ankle before his arm started to ache, Isaac raised another hand. There was no need to accelerate cognition.
"Checkmate."
A dense, rotating water drop was fired directly toward the enemy's left eye with a terrifying precision. The blood burst. However, there was no scream that Isaac was expecting. Instead, the enemy's hands moved, quickly unsheathing a knife and swinging it widely to create a distance between the two of them.
It meant nothing. The meager distance couldn't prevent Isaac from firing the second water drop, aiming at the other eye of the enemy. Still, the enemy managed to evade this time around even though he should've been under the influence of extreme pain, tilting his head at the last second.
Then, the enemy panted as he landed on a knee, bringing his left hand on the ruptured eye where the blood started to pour out. "You…" He growled at a weak tone. "Isaac Nameless… you really are something else."
…Something was off. Weak tone—it didn't sound natural. [The Prism] told him that the man was acting, that he wasn't as weakened as he pretended to be.
[Condensation].
Isaac didn't respond. Instead, he fired the third water drop, which struck the enemy by the right wrist. A deep bruise appeared as the water exploded at a scale much larger than that of a tiny drop, showing just how dense the water drop was. The enemy gasped as he dropped the knife in his right hand. Said hand trembled in loss of strength.
Should I kill him? Isaac thought coldly as he generated the fourth water drop. No. Killing wouldn't change anything. I would then need to wait until the next attempt to assassinate comes by, and it would be harder than whatever I am dealing with now.
He needed to draw the information out of this hitman. He needed this man alive, at least for now. That meant that he needed to neutralize the man.
Then, the man let out weak chuckle as he swayed. As if he realized from Isaac's behavior that Isaac wasn't trying to kill him. "Looks like… you aren't falling for it." Suddenly, the man suddenly removed his bloody left hand from his ruptured eye and reached into his left pocket. Isaac immediately fired the fourth water drop at said arm, but the man, as if having expected it, took the blow with his already-injured right arm instead.
The man's left hand was now holding onto some sort of device. Stick-like, with round edges.
A flare. Its tip was already lit by the time Isaac saw it.
"Just one thing: don't use the flare signal in there. Red Wolf goes berserk." Dodyon's warning rang in Isaac's ears.
By then, the spark was already flying high up into the air. Then, it exploded into a bright fit of flame before dissipating.
"And now…" The man grinned, "we are all fucked."
There were howling. All across the Heliosphere, from the front, back, left, and right, the howling of countless wolves were heard.
Among them, there was the loud, ferocious roar that could only be heard from a creature as dangerous as Red Wolf itself.
"You…"
"Isaac… Nameless." The man fell, as if no longer able to support his body with his feet due to the extensive loss of blood. It logically made sense. However, again, [The Prism] told Isaac that the man was acting. "Why… congratulations. You successfully fended yourself against I…" He gasped for the air as he dropped the used flare and returned his trembling left hand over his ruptured eye.
The eye. Isaac noticed, it wasn't bleeding as extensively when he was shooting the flare. Now, when his hand is back on the eye, it is bleeding again… his eyes narrowed, something is in that hand of his. The blood that trickles down from his eye… doesn't seem to be from it.
Everything about this man was bizarre. Isaac was starting to consider the possibility that the man wasn't the wielder of two skills, but three skills—one for suppressing noises, one for a far-sight vision, and the last for blood retention—and based on the information that [The Prism] was feeding him, it seemed quite likely.
"Well… isn't it too bad." The man then whispered.
Isaac debated on whether he should destroy the man's remaining eye as well. If his theory of the man having a skill that prevents blood from spilling out was true, then the loss of the other eye would work in his favor. However, he decided against it, since the theory hasn't been proven yet.
"For years… I killed hundreds of targets. It was… fun while it lasted."
The man's breathing was calmer than it should've been. It sounded peaceful, and the delay between the words, the pants—they seemed rather forced. Even now, the left hand above the ruptured eye couldn't stop the blood from trickling down.
"Again, too bad."
The man's remaining eye looked aloof as it stared into the thin air rather than at Isaac.
"We were to kill everybody. The three dead bodies were supposed to be found in these ruins by that Abias boy and Ursula boy. The useless assessor, killed by Isaac Nameless to remove any hindrance in enacting his revenge. The Hedron girl, killed by Isaac Nameless out of spite after having been humiliated numerous times. Isaac Nameless himself, dead of the injuries that he received from her."
Isaac stopped.
"…We?"
His expression slowly morphed into that of realization. He understood what the man was trying to say.
And just when Isaac was briefly caught off guard by the man's words, the man suddenly acted. His feet, which seemed to have given in, suddenly sprang up. The man, removed his left hand from the ruptured eye, and threw away… what appeared to be an empty blood bag. Proceeded to run with vigor that the man shouldn't have had.
"Too bad for you… Isaac Nameless…!" The man shouted as his feet rapidly moved, "I am insensitive to pain! The loss of one eye… means nothing to me!"
Isaac gritted his teeth as he immediately began the chase, running after the man amidst the howls and chaotic noises of wolves everywhere.
He knew that the man was heading right where his ally—another hitman who was on the mission to kill Camilla Hedron—was located at.
While Camilla was the wielder of A-rank: [Mystical Swords], the confidence in the man suggested that there was a way to defeat her. In other words, she was in danger. There was a possibility that she was already dead, and it was likely this scenario that the man was betting on.
After all, if Camilla was dead, this would turn the fight into a two versus one against Isaac's favor. The man knew that even if this possibility were to be likely, Isaac couldn't kill him because of the slightest chance of Camilla being alive.
"Damn it…" Cursing, all that Isaac could do was to chase without losing the sight of the enemy.