The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin - Chapter 80: Lunev Rainriver (3)
The Regressed Son of a Duke is an Assassin chapter 80
Chapter 80: Lunev Rainriver (3)
Exactly three minutes.
It could have been faster, or it could have been slower.
The only welcome I received upon returning from my brief leave under the pretense of using the restroom was an empty warmth.
She must have left.
She had told me quite accurately about the condition of her body, and I had been aware of it from that moment on.
The underlings of the Garam Magic Society, who were exuding an unpleasant smell.
Well, I certainly didn’t think she had been allowed to go out.
It’s quite remarkable that she left without permission, but I couldn’t help but chuckle when I considered that the delicate young girl had come here alone, crossing the border on her own.
Assuming Lunev’s words were true, there was no point in deliberately encountering the society’s underlings who were watching over me.
I vacated my seat with the intention of just letting them take away the granddaughter who had run away from home.
[Does our master seem to be in particularly low spirits? I rarely see such a face, like you’ve swallowed a bug.]
Ceyram taunted me with rich sarcasm.
To be honest, I can’t deny that.
“I’m not particularly fond of it.”
To put it more frankly, I find it incredibly filthy.
If her true intent was to stir me up, then I’d like to personally congratulate her.
The agitation inside me boiled just as she intended, making me feel absolutely rotten.
You might wonder if I felt any sympathy for her due to her short-lived life?
Don’t be mistaken.
Life is not so tough to begin with.
At most, it’s a bit tougher than a fly’s.
Having seen countless deaths and having sent countless others to death, if I had felt sympathy over such things, I could assert that I have lived life incorrectly.
Let me make it clear once again, I am not a savior.
So why do I feel so disgusted?
I’m not sure.
Honestly, I don’t even understand my own feelings right now.
What’s certain is that the filth I’m feeling right now stems from a sense of discomfort.
A vile feeling that comes from being able to do something yet choosing not to.
It’s pointless to think about it any further.
With a short snort, I turned my body around.
[Are you just going to leave?]
“Isn’t it obvious? There’s no reason for me to detain a granddaughter who has been told to be taken back. Getting involved will only give me a headache.”
[Hmm… Really…?]
Normally, she would have provoked me with trivial talk, but today she showed a different reaction.
It’s almost like she agrees, yet seems to have something to say, which made me even more suspicious.
“What do you want to say?”
I asked directly.
[Well, I mean, those guys who came to pick up the child. Did you happen to hear anything they were muttering to each other?]
“What would they say? They probably just talked about taking her away quickly before she gets into more trouble.”
The later they are, the more their own lives are at risk.
[You didn’t hear them?]
Her sinister laughter, which tickled my skin, naturally drew my gaze.
[They were doing mental communication. It was as if they didn’t want the little one to hear, saying it openly right in front of her.]
The ‘I’ who hadn’t heard and ‘Ceyram’ who did.
It was a familiar situation, and I couldn’t bring myself to laugh.
“Mental communication?”
It wasn’t an ordinary conversation with words but rather a psychic type of magic that communicated thoughts alone.
It’s not an easy form of magic.
To convey your thoughts through mana requires a fair amount of calculation.
However, agents of Mist often use it since it is highly practical, but that’s not the issue here.
Why go to such lengths?
Was there something that she shouldn’t hear?
They could have just been exchanging trivial words like ‘Let’s quickly take her away before we get scolded more’.
Maybe even cursed her for causing them trouble.
Even if I have exceptional hearing as a rare breed, I can’t hear mental communication.
More importantly, the fact that Ceyram shared this with me means…
She must have heard something interesting, at least to her.
Not to me, of course.
Suddenly, my gaze shifted to the chair on which she had been sitting.
I could faintly sense it.
Traces of mana that had not yet dissipated, scattered by someone.
Quickly, I placed my hand on it.
“Sweet Sleep…”
Seeing the whitish powder caked somewhat viscously on my hand, I was certain.
Residue of a five-star psychic sleep spell.
They had put Lunev to sleep.
Was there a need for that?
In a situation where there weren’t even traces of resistance, why the need to put her to sleep to move her?
Unnecessary actions always provoke suspicion.
My gaze returned to Ceyram.
“What exactly did they say?”
Ceyram approached my ear as if she had expected my question and whispered.
[I’ll tell you every word without leaving a single one out. Open your ears wide and listen~]
As Ceyram’s malicious whispering resonated in my ear like an aria, my expression became increasingly foul as the moment lingered.
* * *
Somewhere on the outskirts of Rowen, in the border region between the Ushif Empire and the Garam Kingdom, a small merchant wagon — not a luxurious carriage befitting of nobility but one that traders might use — made its way through a barren desolate land.
In the front, two men were leading the wagon, and surrounding it were three other men spread in different directions to shield the carriage almost in a defensive formation.
One thing they all had in common was that they all wore blue robes.
A certain desperate emotion could be glimpsed upon their serious faces.
Silence.
Eventually, the leading man raised his hand, signaling a stop.
Appearing before the halted group was a border post of the Garam Kingdom.
To ensure that they didn’t attract attention, they reversed the wagon a bit, maintaining a distance.
-Rustling-
They all simultaneously took off their robes and began to change into worn trader clothes as a means of disguising their identities.
In their hands, they held counterfeit merchant identity cards from another country.
-Thud-
A strange noise caught their attention.
They all abruptly turned their heads.
“…!”
A certain individual, exuding a sinister magical aura, stared back at them.
Cloaked in a grayish robe as though also trying to hide their identity.
As they watched this figure, the leading man who had been driving the wagon slowly approached.
The others kept a tense gaze as they observed but did not dare to come closer.
“Is she…?”
“The girl inside the wagon is under a sleep spell, though it seems the magic took to her better than expected. At least for a day or so, it should persist.”
“May I check?”
“Of course.”
The man led the woman in the grayish robe up to the front of the wagon.
She climbed aboard, navigating through the clutter of baggage until she found something hidden deep within.
A delicate young girl, her hands and feet bound, gagged in the mouth.
Upon confirmation of the girl’s identity, the woman smiled faintly.
“You’ve taken a lot of risk to bring her here.”
“Strictly speaking, the chance was almost non-existent.”
“Right. Who would have thought that the little girl, who seemed like she would rot in the society for life, would run away on her own to the society… of all places.”
Pulling out a letter from her pocket, the woman revealed it.
“By now, the real watchers sent by the society should have arrived at the society. Let’s get out of here before the border post gets the news.”
“Yes, understood.”
The man bowed as he received the letter.
The woman turned to leave, but suddenly cast another glance at the girl, whispering as if she should hear it even in her sleep.
“Don’t resent it too much. It’s better to make a meaningful contribution and die than to suffer from futile experiments all your life, isn’t it? This is actually for your own good.”
It sounded reasonable but there was no such sentiment in her expression or tone.
It was simply a means to achieving their goal.
To those in the wagon, the girl was an entity without any emotional significance.
The woman then turned away.
“Well, then, I shall be on my…!”
-Swish!
Along with the sound of the blade piercing flesh, the woman’s face twisted in agony.
“Cough…!”
Blood dripped to the ground, and in that brief moment as she looked up, what filled her view was a billowing black cloak in the wind.
“…!”
The blade had penetrated her vitals, a purplish unfamiliar energy seeping out of the wound.
Before she could even understand what it was, the owner of the blade mercilessly pulled it out.
-Thud-
A torrent of blood spilled out like a waterfall.
The woman fell forward with a groan and soon after, her breath ceased.
The witnesses of these events were stunned beyond belief.
“Li… Lightning…!”
The man who received the letter, in a panicked state, began to chant a spell hurriedly.
But the incantation was cut short, replaced instead by an anguished scream.
“Argggh…!”
That scream didn’t last long.
With one hand channeling mana mercilessly severed, and a brutal sword aura aimed straight at his throat, the man’s head swiftly flew towards the wagon.
-Thump-
It was said that when one is terrified beyond measure, their senses freeze, rendering them incapable of movement.
That was exactly the state they were in.
However, all their eyes were sharply focused on the unknown presence before them.
A physique reminiscent of a teenager.
Yet, the murderous intent beneath that simple black mask could paralyze anyone with fear.
There were only two thoughts that crossed the minds of the men facing this figure.
‘Why has this happened?’
Or
‘I must escape.’
Those who thought the latter were the quicker to assess the situation.
Had they realized that the masked figure’s target was the wagon, they might have had time to burn the wagon with magic and flee.
However, surviving was not guaranteed.
It would just mean extending their life by a few seconds as they were still fated to be dismembered in the end.
But that thought occurred to only one among the four remaining.
The others, while puzzled by their predicament, were focused on taking down the entity before them.
Yet, they failed to act.
Just as they finally relaxed their stiffened nerves to gather mana…
-Swish-
That was merely the beginning of the end.
-Swish Swish Swish-
The relentless sounds of slaughter rang out.
Humans were advised never to hope to survive upon hearing such sounds.
It wasn’t just the noise of flesh being sliced, but the sound of life itself gradually strangling, gnawing away at the last sliver of soul that remained.
If one perceives such sounds, they are said to no longer exist as human beings…
It was like a macabre dance performed by the reaper himself.
-Whistling-
The putrid scent of blood mingled with the desert wind, drifting through the barren wasteland.
(To be continued)