Chapter 73: Because I Trained Every Moment (2)
The attackers’ methods were far too similar to those of common thieves—blackened daggers, crossbows, throwing knives.
‘How ridiculous.’
However, their skills were even worse.
‘They’re not even on the level of the Gilpin Guild.’
“Did you dodge?”
The fact that one of them expressed surprise when Encrid dodged a dagger showed they weren’t professionals.
They clearly weren’t specialized assassins.
Encrid spun the dagger he had taken from the dead attacker in his hand.
With a flick of his fingers, he adjusted the position of the knife, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger, and extended his arm.
The result was immediate.
The dagger whizzed through the air and embedded itself into the forehead of an attacker, whose face was hidden behind a mask. The man fell backward, collapsing onto the floor with a thud. Blood flowed freely from his head, pooling on the tavern’s floor.
“Waaah!”
Several of the civilians who had been quietly eating their meals screamed and bolted for the exit. The server and maid who had been carrying food ducked under a table in a panic.
The attack brought chaos and panic.
The screams caused an uproar.
But not a scratch had touched Encrid’s group.
“…Kill them all!”
One of the attackers shouted.
“We’re under attack! Fight back!”
“Grab your weapons!”
The merchant guild’s escorts responded, drawing their weapons as the sound of swords scraping against their scabbards echoed.
Amidst the noise, Encrid didn’t forget that they were on a mission.
“I’ll go,” he said to the fairy company commander, turning on his heel.
Someone had to ensure the safety of the escort target.
If there was this much chaos on the first floor, there were likely problems upstairs as well.
Though there were personal guards with the target…
‘If things go wrong here, we’ll be held accountable too.’
Encrid couldn’t help but wonder who had the audacity to orchestrate this. Attacking a merchant guild guarded by the Border Guard’s standing army within their territory?
Encrid headed upstairs. No one tried to stop him.
It made sense—Jaxson was blocking the way.
Jaxson had picked up a chair and was using it as a shield, deflecting every throwing knife aimed at him.
In no time, the chair became an abstract piece of art, filled with knives and quarrels stuck into the wood.
When the throwing attacks failed, a few attackers drew short swords and clubs, advancing on him.
Every time they stepped into Jaxson’s range, he would swing his sword and, with one clean strike, sever their connection between body and soul.
His movements were nothing short of precise.
Blocking and cutting—while his sword strikes seemed ordinary, none of the attackers could block them.
Clang!
One attacker managed to parry, but Jaxson had already swung his sword with the intention of breaking the block, his blade flashing forward like lightning to stab the man in the face.
With a crack, the attacker’s nose shattered, and a new hole opened on his face as he crumpled to the ground. Jaxson pulled his sword free and resumed his methodical work.
He blocked the incoming knives with the chair and cut down any who got close. Though his throwing knife skills were far superior to Encrid’s, he didn’t use them.
There was no need.
“What the hell is this guy?”
One of the attackers cursed.
Jaxson didn’t reply. What conversation was there to be had with those who were about to die?
While Jaxson distracted the attackers, the fairy company commander stepped into the fray.
Knives slipped out from her waist as she moved.
With the grace of a leaf dancing in the wind, her blade cut down attackers, who fell clutching their throats.
She slashed again and again.
Blood sprayed through the air, painting her face and body with splatters of crimson.
None of the attackers could handle the light, swift movements of the fairy. This wasn’t a group of highly skilled fighters.
“If this is all you’ve got, I’m disappointed,” she said, lifting one foot off the ground and raising her other leg two handspans above the floor, adopting a stance with her knife aimed at the remaining attackers. She looked as if she was about to begin dancing.
Her voice was clear and light, but to the attackers, it must have sounded like the voice of the demon lord of the underworld.
One of the masked men instinctively took a step back.
“Shit.”
One of the remaining attackers whimpered.
The leader of the group attacking the first floor thought to himself.
‘As long as the objective is accomplished.’
They had stalled long enough. Whether or not their operation on the second floor succeeded, staying here any longer would mean certain death.
The guards were far more skilled than he had expected.
Had they brought in the butchers from the frontier?
He didn’t know. And it didn’t matter. He believed his job was done. It was time to make his exit.
“Kill them all!” the leader shouted as he sprinted toward the door, hoping his subordinates would buy him time to escape. He was sure their plan had succeeded.
“Glory to Azpen!”
One of the remaining subordinates shouted. As the cry echoed behind him, the leader fled.
He was one of the remnants of spies left in the city.
They had thrown their lives away for their country and honor.
The leader, however, was only in it for the money.
That’s what loyalty was for, after all—raising fodder to be sacrificed at times like this.
Jaxson, who had been carefully watching the leader’s back, briefly touched the thin blade hidden at his waist but let it go.
‘A waste of effort.’
Killing him wouldn’t change anything.
Letting him escape wouldn’t be a disaster either.
Jaxson turned his attention back to his work.
Brutally slaughtering the enemies charging at him.
His role was to block the stairs to the second floor.
Considering his usual attitude, it wasn’t the most fitting job for him.
But in terms of skill, aside from the fairy company commander, no one else in the tavern could match him, so none of the attackers could get past him.
While the fairy commander whirled her knives through the air, she occasionally glanced back.
She had noticed the skill of the squad member guarding the stairs ahead of Encrid.
‘He stands out.’
Was this the troublesome squad?
There were certainly cases where a squad member could be more skilled than their leader.
But the difference here was stark.
‘At least city level.’
The military grading system was something Naurilia had created.
Across the wider continent, people used a different way of measuring ability.
To the company commander, who had wandered across the lands, that system was more familiar.
Village, city, continent.
Sometimes the size of the village or city mattered, and even the region or the entire continent could be taken into account.
But that was the basic structure.
Are they strong enough to be famous in a single village?
Or are they skilled enough to be renowned across an entire city?
How about the entire continent?
By her standards, a continental-level expert was at least a knight-level warrior.
Unless they had mastered the power that knights wielded, it was impossible.
Excluding conmen who hired bards to spread their names, of course.
“Interesting.”
She muttered to herself.
It was a dreadful sound to the man who had just lost all four fingers on his right hand while trying to block one of her knives.
“What?”
The man, eyes brimming with tears, cried out as he clutched his hand. The fairy commander responded by striking him on the back of the head with the pommel of her knife.
Thwack.
He fell unconscious. Should she stop the bleeding?
No, it didn’t matter.
If he died, so be it.
There were plenty of witnesses left alive. Not everyone had been killed. Jaxson had spared a few as well.
Some of the younger attackers who looked like they had loose lips had only been cut on the thigh or knocked out.
Even the man who had shouted “Glory to Azpen” had been left alive.
They would be useful in various ways.
‘And upstairs?’
As she continued fighting, the fairy commander cast part of her attention toward the second floor. Her heightened sense of hearing informed her of the situation above.
A strange smile spread across her face.
‘This is fun.’
It was the same thought she’d had before.
She remembered the first time she had held knives as a child.
Back then, it had been just as fun.
With that thought, the fairy commander’s knives moved again.
By now, the number of attackers had been cut in half.
* * *
Encrid ran up the stairs, taking two at a time.
Huff, huff—he bounded up the steps with a lightness in his body.
‘The isolation technique.’
It had definitely made a difference in his physical condition. Though Audin said it was slow, Encrid could clearly feel the improvement.
His body was lighter than before.
The moment he stepped onto the second-floor hallway, an assassin dropped down from above, sword drawn.
This assassin wasn’t nearly as skilled as the one he had fought before.
He practically felt the man’s presence even before seeing him.
With a quick twist of his body, Encrid pressed himself against the wall, dodging the attacker as he plummeted to the floor.
The assassin’s eyes met Encrid’s as he landed.
Encrid gripped the hilt of his longsword with his right hand, lowering himself into a half-crouch. It was a stance for a Middle Sword-Style draw.
The assassin, now on the ground, quickly regained his balance, raising his short sword perpendicular to the floor. It was an effective defensive posture against a horizontal slash, an attempt to counter the Middle Sword-Style draw.
However, it was inadequate for what was coming.
Encrid, instead of drawing his longsword, made a deceptive movement with his right hand but then, with his left, swiftly unsheathed a short sword and slashed vertically.
Thunk!
The strike split the top of the assassin’s head as if cutting through his skull. His eyes trembled as he realized too late that he had been tricked.
But, as with all the dead, he didn’t speak a word in response.
Encrid had used the Valen-style double sword draw, a technique that combined speed and misdirection.
“Are you insane? Hiring assassins in a place like this?” a woman’s voice echoed from down the hall.
“Where do you think you’re going?” another woman’s voice followed.
Encrid stepped over the body of the assassin and sprinted down the narrow hallway.
Ahead, a door was half-open, and in front of it, a masked attacker stood guard.
“Idiots,” the man muttered, noticing Encrid’s approach. He swung his arm and threw a knife.
It flew towards Encrid, but compared to the Whistle Dagger, its speed was laughable.
The Heart of the Beast heightened Encrid’s instincts, allowing him to stare directly at the incoming knife. His intense focus, honed through repeated battles, made the knife’s trajectory seem slow.
His finely tuned senses, combined with the muscle memory developed from constant training, enabled him to predict and react effortlessly to the incoming blade.
All it took was a slight tilt of his head to dodge.
In the past, before repeating this day over and over, such a move would have been unimaginable to him. He would have considered it a mere stunt.
Dodging a flying knife with just a tilt of his head?
He remembered a time when, on the battlefield, he had failed to dodge an arrow from an enemy known as the Hawk’s Talon. Back then, he had to rely on a shield.
Now, he felt like even that arrow would be easy to avoid.
The knife whistled past his ear with a faint “swoosh.”
As Encrid continued his charge, the masked man’s eyes widened in surprise. Despite his shock, the man began preparing another knife.
Encrid feigned a forward lunge, raising the short sword in his left hand to make it seem like he was going to attack.
But instead of striking with his sword, he swung his right arm.
Whiiist!
The Whistle Dagger flew from Encrid’s hand and pierced through the man’s throat.
“Gurgh.”
Blood spurted from the man’s neck as he choked on his own blood. His reflexes betrayed him, and even though he was already dying, he finished the motion of throwing the second knife. It fell weakly to the ground with a dull clatter.
All of this happened in the span of a few breaths.
Without breaking stride, Encrid crashed into the dying man with his shoulder, sending him flying sideways down the hallway.
Thud! Crash!
The man’s body slammed into a door on the opposite side of the hall, followed by a startled yelp from whoever was inside.
This was an inn, after all. There were still people staying here.
It wasn’t exactly the middle of the day, but to have an assassination attempt in the heart of the city, especially in an inn, meant the attackers were either extraordinarily bold or completely foolish.
“Gurrrgh!”
Just as Encrid dispatched the masked attacker, he kicked open the half-closed door and rushed into the room.
Inside, he saw one of the merchant guild’s guards clutching his stomach, blood seeping between his fingers as he collapsed.
The masked assassin, who had just stabbed the guard, yanked his sword free and turned to strike the escort target—the young woman from the guild.
In that fleeting moment, Encrid acted.
The Whistle Dagger in his hand flew once more.
Whiiist! Thud!
Though he didn’t throw it with full force due to the urgency, it was enough to make the assassin flinch. The man hesitated, raising his sword to block the dagger instead of delivering the final blow to the guildwoman.
As the assassin faltered, Encrid lunged.
But instead of engaging Encrid, the assassin, still intent on killing the guildwoman, swung his sword at her once more.
‘Damn it!’
Encrid cursed the assassin’s persistence. Left with no other choice, he did something unexpected.
He mimicked the movement he had once seen a squire use on the battlefield.
Of course, he couldn’t replicate the move exactly. He didn’t have the same natural talent.
But the space was small—a cramped room with only a bed and a couple of pieces of furniture.
The limited area meant he could manage a rough imitation.
Lowering his body, he pushed off the floor, closing the distance in an instant. Another Whistle Dagger would have been too slow, so instead, Encrid hurled himself forward.
Bam!
The assassin’s sword struck Encrid’s back, slicing through his gambeson and cutting into his back.
Encrid instinctively twisted his body, deflecting the sword’s blow off his back.
Through the pain, Encrid looked at the guildwoman.
Instead of the terrified, pale face he expected, she stood firm, her jaw clenched, and her expression determined.
This was an escort mission. And an escort mission meant one thing.
It was his duty to protect her, no matter the cost.
Taking the hit with his back, Encrid braced his body to absorb the shock of the blade, all while thanking Audin in his mind.
‘Thank you, Audin.’
“Learning how to take a hit properly—that’s the foundation,” Audin had said during their training. It was a basic wrestling move, learning to redirect the force of a blow with one’s body.
At the time, Encrid had thought he would die from the training.
But now that he had learned it, he could see how useful it was.
“Hold on a moment.”
Encrid spoke as he pushed the merchant guildwoman aside.
“Mmph!”
The woman didn’t scream but held her breath instead. She seemed to have a lot of grit.
“You bastard…”
The assassin, realizing what had happened, raised his thick-bladed sword, a gladius, and glared at Encrid.
“Why don’t we take this downstairs?” Encrid suggested, turning and charging at the man.
The assassin aimed a stab right at Encrid’s forehead.
Encrid couldn’t have known how helpful his experience with the Whistle Dagger would be.
The assassin’s thrust was much slower than the Whistle Dagger’s strikes.
Encrid dodged and ducked low, wrapping his palm around the back of the man’s thigh.
Then, with a burst of strength, he lifted the assassin and charged toward the window.
Crash!
The wooden frame shattered as Encrid and the assassin tumbled through the window, falling from the second floor and into the streets below.