Chapter 392

“I am a sinner.”

Aisia had to admit her mistake.

Even if Encrid covered for her and said nothing, what she had done wouldn’t disappear. She didn’t think her sin would vanish just because her younger sibling had been taken hostage.

It was all excuses and self-justification.

At least, that was how Aisia saw it, so she was a sinner.

That was what she said, and Krang’s answer came back.

“Then cover the mistake with merit. Like I said, I need to borrow even a cat’s paw.”

He sounded nonchalant.

Was it inevitable because the situation was urgent?

Even so, Krang was so calm it almost felt excessive.

Was he saying anyone would do as long as they were useful? No, that wasn’t it. She felt something like trust being directed at her.

Could he do that when she’d been on the side that betrayed him just half a day ago?

She didn’t even notice the gazes of the two marquesses watching.

Aisia opened her mouth.

“How can you trust me?”

She didn’t understand Krang’s attitude.

Was it because she was part of the Red Cloak Order? Because he was short-handed? Because he needed the few remaining forces in the royal palace? Because she was a Junior Knight?

Aisia looked at Krang, and Krang smiled brightly at her.

“I trust this friend’s eyes. I think that’s enough.”

Krang pointed at one person with his finger. That was it.

The person he pointed to—the one he called “this friend”—was Encrid.

“I have a mountain of things to handle right now. We’ll meet again.”

Krang said only that and left. In the space he’d left behind, Encrid asked,

“Want me to fix your nose?”

He didn’t seem to care about her betrayal at all.

“It’s already fixed.”

She answered, looking straight at Encrid, and thought,

‘Does he know me that well?’

They’d been together for a while, but not long. She didn’t think he knew why she’d been standing there.

She didn’t want to explain that she’d reluctantly stood in his way to protect her younger sibling.

“See you later.”

So she was at a loss for words.

After that, she had to leave quickly because her younger sibling’s safety was urgent, and fortunately, her sibling was safe.

She moved immediately, but Aisia’s face was still a mess. The area around her nose was swollen, and her face was mottled with purple bruises.

On top of that, she clutched her side as she ran, because of the throbbing pain in her chest.

In that state, Aisia explained the situation to her younger sibling.

“I received a favor.”

That was the conclusion she reached after saving her sibling and coming back.

Whatever the underlying reason, the other party had covered for her and trusted her.

Not everything had ended well, but for Aisia herself, it had ended in the best possible way.

“Is smashing your face in like that a favor?”

Her sibling asked. They had been kidnapped, panicked, and even frustrated, but now they were fine—at least, that was how they looked on the outside.

It was calmness meant to keep her from worrying. Aisia was grateful for it.

“Yeah.”

“If he hits you twice, ask him to marry you.”

“I’ll have to consider it.”

It was a trivial joke.

Her sibling had been threatened with death because of her, but they didn’t resent her.

They had grown up well.

Aisia could have broken her sword for her sibling.

So she didn’t regret her choice. If the same situation came again, she would choose her sibling again.

She wanted to ask Encrid something, for no reason at all.

What would he do if she did it again?

Somehow, the answer felt easy to guess.

She didn’t know him well and had only received from him one-sidedly, but she felt like she had already heard what he would say.

“Just don’t create a situation like that.”

That was the right answer. Encrid was the kind of person who thought and acted that way.

After saving her sibling, turning back, watching the sun set, going home, washing up, and tending her injuries—

“Be grateful for the generosity. The opportunity to stand on the right side and fight to prove yourself will not come again.”

The Marquis of Okto sent someone to deliver those words.

She would have done it even if he hadn’t.

She had found out who was behind the bastard who had taken her sibling hostage.

Baron Mernes had stepped forward, but who had put that baron forward?

Crack.

Her teeth ground, but she clenched her molars hard.

The injury would heal in about fifteen days.

She would rest without moving for fifteen days. After that, she would beg to be sent to the battlefield.

And then she would make them understand who she was, and the price of laying a hand on her sibling.

Aisia stroked her sibling’s head, looking forward to that moment.

—

‘I will definitely avenge you, Lykanos.’

Lykanos was a colleague and younger sibling who had shared the same dream and started the Black Blade Bandits with him.

They were no different from family, except for blood.

It was dawn, before sunrise. The world was tinged blue. The man left the castle and headed for the north gate.

Leaving the castle had been difficult, but from here on out, it would be easy.

No one would suspect him.

Because the tax collector was already dead—the leader of the Black Blade Bandits.

‘He was a useful tool to the very end.’

The man moved diligently, savoring his revenge. He also had a plan.

‘The secret vault.’

A place where wealth had been piled up for over ten years.

The man was the tax collector’s attendant—and the true head of the Black Blade Bandits.

A man who had once drawn his sword alongside Lykanos for those who were persecuted and mistreated.

If Lykanos proved himself with force, he had guided the Black Blade Bandits here with conviction and brains.

Of course, anyone changes when stained by power and wealth.

That was how he had changed, and that was how he had reached this point.

That was how Lykanos had died.

And that was how all that remained in his grasp was wealth—though realizing that was still far off.

‘Definitely.’

He kept rolling the taste of revenge around in his heart, but deep down, he knew it too.

It was realistically impossible. How could he do what he’d failed to do before, against nobles with deep foundations and power, when he’d barely escaped with his life?

He knew everything, but a vow of revenge was the most fitting excuse to rationalize running away to save himself.

In truth, even with a sense of crisis, he felt no real sadness over Lykanos’s death.

He was too different from who he had been.

‘Once I get out of here…’

He would probably forget even the vow of revenge.

He would live in exile in another country with the wealth from the secret vault.

Then he might be able to pretend to be a noble himself.

Or perhaps it would be nice to start a merchant company.

If neither worked, he could live like a wealthy man in some suitable city.

His shoulders, without him realizing it, were already carrying that future.

The man shook his head violently.

‘No. I will definitely take revenge.’

He walked on, deceiving even himself in the end.

Before he knew it, the sky was slowly brightening. The blue air held a strange comfort. Warmth seeped in. With the sunlight behind him, he kept walking.

He was no longer dressed as an attendant.

He wore a dirty hooded cloak and leggings, disguised as a hunter.

‘You pathetic bastards.’

They would never find him.

When Jaxson had chased him, he’d felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like a blade was pressed to his throat.

But now—

‘I’m alive.’

Of course, he hadn’t planned to simply run.

He had caused havoc to the very end.

He had ordered the remaining members of the Black Blade Bandits to set the royal palace on fire.

It should have been time for the flames to rise.

Thinking that, he turned his head back.

It was quiet.

It was the hour when diligent people began to open their eyes, and around him were those who had stayed up all night after last night’s commotion.

Even without battle or brawls in the capital, the front of the gate was a mess, and the upheaval in the royal palace had planted anxiety in everyone’s hearts.

But the flames meant to decorate the finale were nowhere to be seen.

‘Why?’

The question flashed through him—brief, instinctive.

But question or not, his feet didn’t slow.

He slipped out of the alley and walked quickly toward the north gate.

“Hold on a moment.”

A soldier leaning against the side of the wicket gate called out. Their helmet was tilted to the side. The voice was thin and weak, like a woman’s.

“What is it?”

The man replied.

The soldier removed the tilted helmet. Long blonde hair spilled down.

It was a female soldier.

“Why do you keep glancing back as you come?”

Was she picking a fight over something like that?

But in this situation, where was the captain of the north gate? Why was there only one soldier here?

The leader of the Black Blade Bandits felt uneasy.

The air was strange. His heart pounded with a sense of impending danger.

And then he saw beyond the female soldier.

Several soldiers were sitting quietly, dozing.

‘Dozing?’

He understood at once why everything felt wrong.

How could the guards be sitting and dozing after such a commotion last night?

“Sorry,” the female soldier said. “But there won’t be a fire.”

“…Who are you?”

The leader asked.

“Daggers of Gaor.”

The woman answered with her arms crossed.

It was a relaxed posture, and that made it even more ominous.

Cold sweat slid down his back.

“You’re late.”

The woman continued, then flicked her gaze behind him.

Startled, the leader turned around.

There stood a man with a rare appearance and reddish-brown eyes that revealed no emotion.

“Nice to meet you.”

He said.

In that moment, the leader realized he was finished.

At the same time, he cursed his own complacency for not having even a single scroll on him to escape.

But if he had carried one, he wouldn’t have made it this far.

To avoid the detection spells lined throughout the royal palace, he couldn’t hide anything like that.

All he had now was a single sword.

And he already knew the man in front of him was someone who wouldn’t listen to reason.

Because he had watched how the tax collector he put forward had died.

His hands trembled with fear.

“You must have enjoyed yourself all this time, right? I think it’s my turn to enjoy myself now.”

Jaxson had felt a strange discomfort when he killed the tax collector.

How could someone who had hidden his identity so thoroughly be taken down so easily?

Right after that, Encrid ordered an internal purge.

A civil war was coming.

What was the first thing to consider before fighting?

Cleaning up what was around you.

If a blade flew in from behind, you would lose before you even began.

Krang and the two great noble marquesses had agreed on that.

Markus joined midway and accelerated the work.

Jaxson did what he had to do as well—finding and dealing with the remnants.

In the process, a member of the Daggers of Gaor who had followed Jaxson joined in.

He told her she didn’t need to bother, but she did anyway.

“Master.”

The woman spoke.

She was Jaxson’s lover and a member of the Daggers of Gaor. Using that title came naturally.

It was obvious.

Jaxson was the master of the Daggers of Gaor, the best assassination guild on the continent.

“Are you going back after finishing this?”

she asked.

From her perspective, the work here was done now.

“We’ll talk later,” Jaxson answered.

The immediate task came first.

—

Count Molsen hadn’t been bluffing. He hadn’t lied, either.

He sent troops to the Border Guards.

Among them were more than fifty lycanthropes.

Monsters that turned from humans into wolves.

At the front was a man who had killed people and chewed flesh even when he was still human.

He had already been Junior Knight level back then. Now he had gained the power of a monster, too.

“Let’s go chew on some tender flesh.”

He grinned and led the way.

‘No one can stop us.’

He was certain of victory.

No—he went further.

In the future, the lycanthrope unit he led would become a name of terror that dominated this region.

A bastard as a human had now truly become a dog-headed monster, lifting his snout and howling.

Awooooo!

Behind him, fifty lycanthropes howled.

Awooooooo!

The monsters’ cries carved fear into humans.

An instinctive fear.

But the troops lined up before the Border Guards’ gate were calm.

Anything dulls if you repeat it enough.

The Border Guards’ standing army had fought brutal battles all this time.

Azpen, monsters, cultists, territorial armies—

Countless kinds of bastards had targeted the Border Guards, relentlessly.

There was no rest, inside or out.

Once a cultist attacked a gate within the kingdom, Azpen would strike from the opposite side next.

This was the standing army that remained after enduring all that.

Their dulled hearts were strong, and even the city itself had become more composed.

In the past, news of battle alone would have cut off merchant caravans and made supplies precarious, breeding anxiety.

“Don’t you trust us? Or do you want us to die?”

Now, the Rockfreed Merchant Group sat at the center of logistics for the Border Guards.

The merchants secured routes to distribute supplies—food and everything else—the moment they recognized the enemy invasion.

And there were many people around who would help.

Of course, Count Molsen tried to isolate the Border Guards by pressuring surrounding nobles and cities.

A warning that anyone who helped would be next.

Even so, the city Encrid had saved from the Gnoll Colony and Martai helped.

And the reputation the Rockfreed Merchant Group had built wasn’t small.

As a result, the city’s atmosphere wasn’t especially grim.

In other words, many things were different from before.

Krys, standing atop the wall and watching the fifty lycanthropes charge, felt like he needed to pee.

‘Ah, scary.’

Even so, he had to do what he had to do.

If they lost the first battle, even the support they had would be cut off.

That couldn’t happen.

‘Whoever seizes the initiative wins.’

The enemy was a great noble responsible for this entire region.

Count Molsen—the king of the frontier.

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll take hostages.”

Krys muttered in a voice only he could hear.

If things went wrong, he was keeping watch on two of Count Molsen’s children for that purpose.

To be precise, he had been keeping an eye on them since before.

You never knew when someone might be useful.

Even having done that, he didn’t truly believe hostages would work.

Hostages against Count Molsen?

No chance.

But he couldn’t simply ignore them, either.

He already had thirty-six ways to escape if everything collapsed.

And before those thirty-six escape routes, Krys had devised one hundred and seventy ways to win and endure.

The most useful, reasonable, and efficient opening among them was this.

“Will it be okay?”

Benzense, now leading the archers on the wall, asked beside him.

Krys glanced down at the figure standing before the lined-up troops—two heads taller than the other soldiers—and asked,

“What do you think is the first thing to consider in everything—strategy, tactics, military science?”

Benzense thought for a moment.

“…Morale? Morale—the spirit of the soldiers—is important.”

But there was something to consider even before that.

“It’s knowing what you have properly.”

It sounded vague, but in truth, it was simple.

It meant the first thing was to understand what you have, and use it properly.

How could you fight without knowing what you have?

Krys knew Audin.

Not everything, but enough to know Audin wasn’t the type to back down from fifty lycanthropes.

And Teresa—one of the Bear Siblings—was with him, too.

So Krys told them not to loose a single arrow.

They had to.

They had to break the enemy’s nose in the first battle. Only then would Count Molsen give up on this place.

Krys finished his calculations.

And Audin—the result of those calculations—raised his fist toward the drooling lycanthrope bastard charging straight at him.

(T/N: Alright!! Krys, Audin and Teresa time!)