Chapter 266
The assassin disguised as a middle-aged noblewoman had a parched throat.
Every time the blue eyes behind the black hair following her glanced her way, she felt a chill.
‘Here.’
She planned to hide as soon as she entered the reed field.
She would shake him off and showcase her specialty.
It was at that moment.
Bang!
A thunderous sound rang out. What was that? She instinctively drew her dagger—poisoned and held forward in a ready stance.
And then a shadow fell over her.
It was right after the sound, like a drum bursting or a lightning strike.
Her reaction right after the sound was excellent—but that was all.
“Here, right?”
At the unfamiliar question, the woman looked up.
Flash!
Lightning struck overhead.
That was where her thoughts ended.
A person with two heads could no longer think.
Activating the [Heart of Monstrous Strength], Encrid kicked off the ground and closed the distance, bringing his sword down vertically to split the assassin’s skull.
Simple, yet no assassin could have expected such decisiveness.
Wasn’t this the moment to catch his breath and prepare for traps or ambushes?
Yet he rushed in and cleaved the skull.
Splat—blood sprayed everywhere, including Encrid’s clothes.
Encrid marveled at the sword in his left hand.
‘Is this the sword I always carried around?’
He realized once again the dwarf’s craftsmanship was extraordinary.
It wasn’t a legendary blade, but it was solid and sharp.
He especially liked the thick blade.
It could deflect most things just with the flat of the sword.
More than just satisfying—it was incredibly practical.
He didn’t need to carry a separate guard sword. This one could do everything.
Encrid stood in the reed field, appreciating the sword, then lowered the hand holding it.
At the same time, he drew another sword with his right hand.
Ssshhink!
A blue glow emerged from the blade.
It was the cursed sword, but now it had become sturdier and sharper than any other—he held the Tutor Blade as well.
With both arms lowered, he looked around.
The assassins were so well-hidden that he couldn’t spot even a nose between the reeds.
Was that a problem?
Not really.
He was just curious.
What gave these guys the confidence to come at him like this?
Whip! Whip! Whip!
Three round objects flew overhead and burst above Encrid.
Boom-boom-boom!
A dull gray powder fell onto the dry reeds below, causing them to crumble and scatter.
It was poison powder.
But Encrid had already moved from that spot.
The reason he’d made a noisy entrance and killed the middle-aged assassin so explosively was for this moment.
In terms of individual tactics, Encrid was already top-class.
Why wouldn’t he be?
[Valen-Style mercenary swordsmanship] was a phantom blade style based entirely on individual tactics.
And now, unlike before, he had enhanced physical ability, perception, combat experience, and lessons learned from countless repeated days.
Above all—
‘Still sloppier than Jaxson.’
Among his sparring partners was Jaxson, a monster in the assassin world.
His blade always struck silently and without warning.
The days spent trying to capture that in his senses had not been wasted.
Encrid’s terrifying instincts encompassed everything around him.
At least within his perceptive range, he could sense presences by instinct.
If he felt someone might be there—they were.
If something seemed to be flying toward him—it was.
With that, he lightly stepped and launched himself.
A rain of all sorts of weapons fell where he had just stood, but it was meaningless now.
Jack, the dagger-wielding thief, had just picked up two [Whistle Daggers] when his jaw dropped.
When did he get here?
Encrid stabbed.
Stab!
He pierced the assassin’s throat, then retrieved the sword briefly into its sheath.
Shhhink!
He grabbed the man by the collar and flung him aside.
Thud—the body flew, and a stream of blood arced from the assassin’s neck.
Far beyond the reach of the poison smoke.
Encrid curved and dashed sideways.
His body moved with terrifying silence.
Rustle-rustle-rustle!
The sound of reeds being knocked down echoed like a wave.
“Shit!”
One of the assassins shouted. A being trained to remain silent no matter what had involuntarily cried out.
No wonder.
That was a monster.
Even if they were elite assassins under the famed Black Blade Bandits, they were no match.
To kill a monster like that, wouldn’t they need the dagger master of the famed Gaor Guild?
His question didn’t last long.
A wide blade approached, slicing his neck.
Swish, thud!
The severed head floated upward.
In the reeds below the waist, the assassin group trembled with fear.
Boom!
But their hands didn’t stop.
To survive, they had to kill him. That truth hadn’t changed.
They released poison gas, poisoned darts, throwing knives, and hatchets.
Pressure-triggered poison spike pouches burst open.
Everything had been prepared to kill this one person.
Encrid deflected what needed deflecting and dodged the rest.
His senses, beyond human level, warned him in advance.
‘Half a step behind me.’
He whipped his waist around and slammed an elbow into the approaching figure’s head.
BANG!
A sound burst out.
An assassin, whose specialty was silent rear attacks, had his head burst.
His eyeballs popped out from the pressure, rolled on the ground, and his skull cracked open, spilling brains and blood. Pink matter shyly peeked out.
Encrid didn’t spare a glance at the one he elbowed.
The blow alone told him the man was dead.
He flung the gladius forward with all his might.
As his left hand traced a half-circle through the air, the spinning sword struck an assassin’s head like a discus.
Two assassins timed their breaths and threw a net from both sides.
The net blocked the sky with a snap—but Encrid had already retrieved his thrown sword.
It was the harmony of [Heart of Monstrous Strength] and advancing steps.
Using a lunge step typical in swordsmanship—he added in a sloped step.
Originally used to dodge attacks diagonally forward.
He mixed it with no real structure.
Passing steps, gathering steps—he didn’t discriminate.
With brute strength and powerful thigh muscles backing it up—
The advancing step became a dash into a thrust.
The horizontal slash became a sweeping arc that mowed down the reeds.
Simply put, Encrid was using swordsmanship against an entire group of assassins.
He just expanded the area of effect.
Unknowingly, he was using a technique of a Junior Knight against multiple foes.
This was a method for mass killing through swordsmanship.
And it was the natural outcome.
Encrid had reached this point through the means he’d learned.
He fought by combining all the swordsmanship he’d learned from those around him.
He even mixed in the [Fluid Sword Technique].
He compensated for any lack of strength with the excellence of his weapons.
Of course, strength was relative—
“Guh!”
To the assassin hit by Encrid’s fluid blade, it was a grim reaper’s strike.
Despite wearing armor enchanted with shock absorption, he knew a few ribs were shattered.
The enchantment broke under brute force. It was overwhelming.
Encrid’s strength had grown daily, and now he had [Heart of Monstrous Strength].
Frok would be jealous.
‘What the hell is this strength…?’
Encrid continued with a second strike.
Through footwork and the [Heart of Monstrous Strength], his body vanished from the assassin’s view.
What should’ve been a simple sidestep to flank felt like teleportation.
Pop—and gone.
A blue lightning bolt struck the assassin’s crown and passed through.
One more died.
Poison smoke spread everywhere, but Encrid didn’t care.
No—he even held his breath and dashed through it, using a [Zimmer-style Thrust] to kill another.
“Gah—this, this crazy—”
He charged through the smoke and did that?
An assassin who had endured inside with antidote in his mouth left “crazy” as his final words.
Encrid continued, holding both swords loosely by his sides.
Ssshhhhh.
Rustle-rustle-rustle-rustle!
Reeds tangled in his blades were shredded endlessly. It clearly revealed his location.
He didn’t mind. In fact, he hoped they’d attack. It was easier to locate someone who did than someone who stayed hidden.
The result of the battle was clear.
Of the more than fifteen assassins from the Black Blade Bandits, only two remained.
“Wrong move.”
The elite assassin and their leader finally spoke.
His name was Barcelo, a man who had come from the eastern continent under the Black Blade name.
He was once called a match for the dagger masters of Gaor.
A true elite.
His specialty was using claws to tear out the back of someone’s head.
But Barcelo couldn’t find a single opening in Encrid.
Every time he tried to move or change positions, Encrid’s gaze briefly met his.
‘He sees me?’
What kind of absurd perception is this?
He noticed Barcelo, an elite assassin’s presence? How?
So Barcelo was stuck.
The other one was already fleeing.
That one had the duty to report what had happened here.
But as he ran, something caught his neck—and with a strangled grunt, his spine snapped.
Tanned leather soaked in oil, heated, and treated with special chemicals—when repeated, it becomes thin yet durable.
The fleeing assassin’s neck caught on it. His body lifted, and his spine broke under his weight as the holder twisted the cord.
His body flew, then collapsed.
From the fleeing man’s shadow, another figure emerged.
Reddish-brown-haired Jaxson.
“A little late, huh.”
He moved toward the chaos Encrid had created.
And someone else arrived just before him.
“Am I late? Or is my fiance just too fast? Love always hits the heart silently. I don’t think I’m the one who’s late.”
The Elf Commander stood on one edge of the reed field.
Encrid sensed her presence but left her be, turning toward the last opponent.
The lone-standing leader.
He’d known from the beginning. This one was different.
His movements, his concealment—everything was different.
Finding him wasn’t hard. Encrid’s intuition was already beyond normal.
Even without breath sounds or presence, his gut told him someone was there.
And he was.
Even just projecting [killing intent] made it clear.
It was pure instinct and thanks to [Sensory Art]. From the enemy’s perspective, it was pure cheating.
But what could they do? Jaxson, who had stood beside Encrid, was a mad genius in this field—both born and trained.
And what Encrid had learned through countless repeated days had now ripened inside him.
“He’s mine.”
Encrid said to the Elf. He’d left this one intentionally.
Like saving dessert.
This assassin was decent—surely skilled.
The leader of a group that had been annihilated slid claws onto his hands.
“Promise me. If I kill you, let me live.”
His answer came without pause, and Barcelo knew he had no path to survival.
Still, he had one last trick.
Would that be stopped, too?
Tap, tap, tap.
Barcelo began running through the reeds.
To the left was a cloud of poison smoke. The ground was littered with corpses and metal.
His target sheathed one of his shorter blades and grabbed a long sword with both hands.
He didn’t seem fast.
No lightning-fast steps like before.
Just closing the distance while holding the sword.
Tap tap tap!
The reaper’s footsteps.
Rustle rustle rustle.
The reaper crushed reeds as the duet of death played.
Barcelo picked up speed, crouching slightly.
Reeds flashed by behind him.
He lowered his stance, thrust his claws forward, and aimed for a decisive opening strike.
Victory would be decided in a single blow!
So he thought, unleashing his trump card.
Pop! Crackle!
A third hand shot from his chest. It burst through his clothes. So that’s why his chest looked thicker.
Just as his claw met Encrid’s blade.
This was his secret move.
The third hand held a long blade that stabbed for Encrid’s chest—
‘Huh?’
Barcelo realized his clawed right hand wasn’t moving as intended.
The opponent’s strength pressed and pushed his claws, forcing movement.
And then his third hand’s dagger collided with his own claw.
Clang!
At the same time, his left claw slashed for Encrid’s head, but Encrid ducked.
Now lower than Barcelo, Encrid looked up.
Barcelo saw a blue glow. Two streaks of blue, like falling stars.
Encased in black steel, they brushed past him.
He tried to pull back, but couldn’t.
Slash!
Encrid’s blade cut off both his arms—and the third one too.
Then a hot poker-like sensation split his torso and rose upward.
“Aaargh!”
Barcelo screamed, but no one heard it.
His mouth screamed, but it was only a voice in his mind.
Encrid was stunned by the third hand.
‘What the hell is this?’
Thankfully, his body and instincts had moved first.
As soon as he saw the third weapon, he used [Fluid Sword Technique] to deflect the claw and block the dagger, ducking.
It looked simple, but the move set his eyes and head on fire.
His brain was overloaded with information and judgment.
Encrid slashed upward from below.
It was an extension of the first sword form he devised after watching [Swallow Blade].
The flowing blade had no violent force, but the sharpness of a dwarf-crafted sword supported it.
It split through the three arms and continued on.
He stamped the ground with his toes and spun, stabbing cleanly.
His sword pierced the enemy’s abdomen and slashed upward without hesitation.
The motions were fluid, but to the enemy, it was a monstrous attack that severed limbs and bisected the body in an instant.
With that, the last opponent died.
“What is this?”
Jaxson, approaching, asked.
“A bloody engagement ceremony?”
The Elf Commander babbled nonsense.
“Hoo.”
Encrid exhaled deeply, looked at the corpses, and said:
“A guest.”
“A guest… got quite the welcome.”
Jaxson muttered, approaching.
In his hand was a small leather pouch. He roughly searched the corpse and retrieved what he had seen before.
Two identical pouches. He untied the string and let the powder spill.
It sparkled as it scattered.
So—it was powdered medicine.
“A familiar drug.”
Jaxson said.
Encrid thought of the Black Blade messenger’s powder from Martai.
He also recalled the drug Frok had consumed.
Both were almost identical in his memory. The same feel, the same strange scent.
He knew because he had a habit of scrutinizing every little thing.
And if he knew, his meticulous squadmate surely did too.
“Did you interrogate Frok?”
Jaxson asked.
Everyone knew Encrid had beaten and captured him. Jaxson certainly knew.
He probably also knew Frok went wild on drugs.
Krys, with his big mouth, wouldn’t have kept quiet.
And it all seemed connected. Just a feeling—but a premonition close to certainty.
With that, Encrid shook his head.
Interrogation was a task still to come.
“I want in. I’ll pout if you exclude me.”
The Elf Commander chimed in. Encrid nodded.
She had shown interest early on. Her tone was light and joking, but the fierce glow in her green eyes said otherwise.
It was proof that this wasn’t just some minor problem.