That was the moment a chill ran down my spine — not just cold, but frozen solid.
If it wasn't Shu who had startled Ohen, then who on earth was it?
"Who were you talking to?"
Just then, Yuri stepped out from between the bushes, adjusting her coat. Her expression was puzzled, as if wondering who I'd been speaking with — but that wasn't the problem right now.
"We need to get to the others. Fast."
"We still have time, don't we?"
"I'll explain on the way. Let's go."
I gripped my sword hilt and called out. But instead of a reply, what came back was an ominous crack splitting the air.
Thwip!
"Ugh…"
Behind me, Yuri let out a short, strangled sound. I spun around in a panic — a thin poison dart was buried deep in her pale white neck.
Yuri, who had half-drawn her sword, staggered helplessly and collapsed into my arms.
"Ambush…"
She murmured the word like a dying breath, then closed her eyes as if falling asleep.
Crunch.
Two men in black emerged from the darkness of the forest, their heavy footsteps deliberate. Each held a gleaming short blade, and their cloaks bore the emblem of a howling wolf.
Despair washed over me.
Yuri Ayende had been the strongest one here. She had combat ability on par with an imperial knight — and now she was completely incapacitated.
'Black Moon Pact.'
The world's largest assassination organization. Ruthless killers who never let go of a target once they've chosen one. Henri was one of their senior members.
"Hand the girl over. Quietly."
"…And if I don't?"
"We have no intention of killing you. But you'll lose consciousness in a rather painful way."
"How considerate."
The fact that they weren't planning to kill me meant they knew whose son I was. I quietly folded away any hope of being treated with particular care.
I raised my sword.
Their objective was obvious.
'Take Yuri.'
A test subject. That was Yuri's true identity. A living weapon forged by the Black Moon Pact, assembled from every killing technique they possessed.
The Sword Saint had raided a Black Moon Pact branch and taken Yuri in. Even so, they hadn't given up. They'd been watching for any chance to reclaim her.
'…This is bad.'
I hadn't anticipated this at all.
Of course I hadn't.
'This wasn't supposed to happen.'
A Black Moon Pact ambush like this was supposed to occur much later, in the middle arc. The difference from the original story was that my sister had been in this group instead of me…
Oh.
'Because it changed to me.'
Originally, it was my sister who had been paired with Yuri. Sister's magical ability was nearly on par with a professor's. With someone that capable at Yuri's side, even the Black Moon Pact hadn't dared to strike so boldly.
But now, with some worthless nobody standing here, they were attacking without hesitation.
'What do I do…'
I glanced over.
Shu's bright, keen eyes were watching me. I whispered to her in a low voice.
"Help me."
"I'd like to, but I can't."
"Why?"
"I've forgotten how to fight."
Oh, for the love of—
"Wait. I'll try hard to remember."
The moment she finished speaking, Shu — in the middle of this desperate situation — gently closed both eyes.
This was maddening. In the end, I was all that was left.
Crunch. Crunch.
The assassins were closing in.
The shadows clinging to their blades flickered.
'Think.'
A way out of this.
How do I…
'Oh.'
An idea flashed through my mind.
I couldn't let Yuri fall into the Black Moon Pact's hands. She had an important role to play later.
The organization targeting her was the Black Moon Pact. Looking at these assassins, they were ordinary foot soldiers — not high-ranking. In that case…
"Ahem."
I cleared my throat, steadying my trembling voice. I let my eyes close for just a moment, then opened them again, manufacturing a sense of gravity.
"Does the Wingless Eagle sanction what you're doing right now?"
"…!"
In an instant, the assassins' shoulders visibly stiffened.
The Wingless Eagle was the alias used to refer to Henri. Within the Black Moon Pact, members called each other by aliases rather than names.
The moment I invoked Henri's alias, their composure cracked.
"…You. How do you know that name."
"I walk the same shadows you do."
"Th-that's…"
Clearly confused. Understandably so. A young lord from a noble house claiming to be a fellow member of the same assassination organization — of course it was hard to believe.
"Think about it. Why hasn't the Wingless Eagle retrieved Yuri until now? Because there is a time for everything."
"But our orders from above were to recover No. 3 whenever an opening presented itself."
"Who is your superior?"
The Black Moon Pact operated as a cell structure. Without a clear chain of command, assignments were carried out directly under each senior member. Given the nature of an assassination organization, secrecy and security had to be maintained.
"We answer to the Bone-Eating Shark."
"And who do you follow?"
They were asking me now. Assassins followed their respective superiors.
"I follow the Wingless Eagle. Currently, I'm operating under his orders to expand our influence within the academy."
"That's your business. We have our own work to do. Our job is to recover No. 3. Don't interfere any further."
"Right — if you're truly one of us, you'll have proof. Show it."
Proof. Evidence of belonging to the Black Moon Pact. A brand burned into the arm with a heated iron.
"…You show yours first."
There was no way I had a brand seared in with a hot iron.
I answered with a blank expression, and the assassins exchanged glances.
Silence fell.
Shing.
The assassins quietly raised their blades.
"Word games."
"Show us your proof that you're one of ours."
"We asked first. Show the proof, or we kill you."
Chilling words passed between them.
Had I underestimated these men too much?
Then Shu opened her eyes.
"I remembered. I'll strengthen your body."
"Then do it."
"But there'll be some aftereffects."
"Hurry."
I urged her on. This was no time to be picky. Whatever it took, I had to push through.
Shu exhaled.
Particles that shimmered like stardust drifted toward me and seeped into my body.
In that instant, a trembling surge of power rose within me.
My vision widened. My body grew lighter, yet harder.
[You have received the Great Spirit's Blessing. All stats are raised to their limits.]
[Strength increased by 15 (5 minutes)]
[Agility increased by 15 (5 minutes)]
[Endurance increased by 15 (5 minutes)]
[Mana increased by 15 (5 minutes)]
The messages scrolled past, but Matyos no longer read them. His gaze was already fixed ahead.
"You're not one of us after all."
"We'll ask you slowly how you knew so much about us — once this is over."
And when they closed to a certain distance—
Flash!
Both assassins kicked off the ground simultaneously. A pincer attack splitting left and right. They weren't aiming for my throat. Instead, they drove their blade tips toward my shoulder and ankle.
Rather than counter, I stepped back once.
The blades cut through empty air, failing to reach me. But they didn't stop. A dizzying flurry of short blade combinations. The metallic screech of air being torn stabbed at my eardrums.
Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!
No theory needed. At the point where their blades crossed and tangled, I drove the full brute force of Shu's blessing straight through.
Clang!
"Gah!"
"What kind of strength does this kid have—!"
It was a simple, blunt strike. But the result was overwhelming. Their short blades were sent flying in an undignified scatter. Unable to withstand the recoil of the heavy sword impact, the assassins' stances crumbled ungracefully. They retreated to the flanks, faltering.
Defense was over. I kicked off the ground and charged forward, swinging my sword in a wide arc.
Whoosh!
A heavy gust of pressure rose, but all I cut was air. The assassins slipped away with serpentine fluidity, evading my attack.
Shu's blessing had greatly amplified my physical abilities, but it hadn't elevated my swordsmanship.
My swordsmanship was still utterly pathetic.
My physical capabilities might have surpassed the assassins', but my swordsmanship did not. I was below their level.
Clang! Scrape, clang.
A longsword and two short blades crossed in a chaotic tangle. Through the exchange of slashing, thrusting, and parrying, I gave everything I had. I scraped the bottom of two weeks' worth of sword training and fought on. But the more we clashed, the more the brutal reality cut into me.
'…I can't win.'
Despair crawled up my spine.
Fighting them directly made it clear.
Matyos's sword was weak. The strength was there, but as swordsmanship — as a craft — it was nonexistent.
Opportunities to end the assassins had passed by more than once, but my low proficiency squandered each of them without mercy.
Ease returned to the assassins' eyes. They began to circle like hyenas watching exhausted prey stumble toward collapse.
They'd been startled at first.
'How does something that small hit that hard?'
'Is he not a mage?'
It was a grotesque strength that shouldn't have come from such a small, slight frame. Receiving his sword strikes head-on was genuinely frightening.
But as the fight continued, the assassins read Matyos's limits.
'All brute force. Completely unrefined.'
'We got spooked for nothing.'
His swordsmanship was wretched, and the way he swung his blade was awkward beyond measure.
Meanwhile, Shu watched with growing unease.
Matyos was being pushed back. He was fighting stubbornly with that small body, but at this rate, Matyos would lose.
'If only I still remembered my magic.'
One thousand five hundred years.
Through all that vast span of time, Shu had done nothing.
She had lost a dear friend, and then slept a long sleep — as if cutting off her own consciousness.
That period had lasted fifteen hundred years.
More than enough time to forget every spell she had ever known.
She had managed to bestow the blessing magic, but it was only a stopgap.
'Is there any way…'
As Shu scanned her surroundings, she soon noticed Yuri lying quietly unconscious in the undergrowth.
*
Thwip!
A short blade found its opening and buried itself in Matyos's forearm.
The metallic shock of metal striking bone. The boy's fine brow twisted in pain. His right arm, with the blade lodged in it, went limp like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Paralytic poison. The more you struggle, the faster it spreads."
"Hah… hah…"
"We won't take your life, so don't worry. Just your life."
Matyos swung his sword with his remaining hand, but the sluggish strike only earned the assassins' mockery. One of them sidestepped easily and drove a kick into Matyos's abdomen.
Thud!
"Ugh!"
Matyos spat and collapsed. His sword clattered away into the distance.
He desperately reached for it, but an assassin's boot kicked it further out of reach. Then the man grabbed Matyos roughly by the hair and hauled him up.
"Now then, let's have a little talk. Adopted son of the Moretti family."
"…"
"Answer me. How do you know about our plans?"
"…"
"Hm. Not going to answer, are you."
Matyos clamped his mouth shut and glared at the assassin.
"Looks like I'll have to give you some punishment."
The assassin drove his short blade into the ground. One hand still gripped Matyos's hair.
His gaze drifted downward. Despite the dirt and blood, the boy's face was unsettlingly, almost perversely appealing.
Matyos had aristocratic lines. Hair damp with sweat clinging to his cheek, soft cheeks still carrying a trace of youth, a delicate jawline, and beneath long lashes, fine eyes that trembled with life.
"It'd be a real waste to just leave this."
The assassin's fingers pressed roughly into Matyos's cheek.
The slender lines particular to a boy, and the cold, unbroken defiance in his eyes even in the face of death — it was more than enough to stoke the assassins' cruelty.
"Been holding back for weeks because of the mission. Let's see what a noble young lord tastes like."
"Are you doing this? We don't have time."
The other man beside him grumbled in reproach, but the assassin already undoing his belt had reason burning out of his eyes.
"I've been rolling around in the dirt for weeks. Leaving a prize like this behind would be downright rude. Wouldn't you say? My lord."
He forced Matyos's chin up. The pale neck exposed against his will trembled faintly. Beneath skin so translucent it looked as though it had never seen sunlight, blue veins showed through.
"Wait. I'll be quick."
The assassin looked down at Matyos with lust-glazed eyes.
"Prettier than most whores. You don't come across something like this often."
"Tch."
"I'll be quick, don't worry."
"No — I want a turn too."
"I thought you liked women."
"Well, I do, but I'm not particularly picky. As long as it's good, what does it matter?"
"Heh, fair enough."
The assassins snickered and traded their revolting remarks.
Matyos, still held by the hair, glared back at them with defiant eyes.
Which only excited them further.
Then.
Crackle…
The sound of dry leaves underfoot broke the stillness.
It was Yuri. She was staggering upright.
Between the scattered strands of white hair, her violet eyes gleamed. Something was wrong with those eyes. They were not human.
A sword hung loosely in her hand. The blade shimmered.
"What's that sound—"
The assassin turned at the sound of footsteps.
Shlick—!
A silver arc split the air. Yuri had thrust her sword arm straight forward. Before the assassin could utter a word, the sharp blade drove into his open mouth.
The tip ground through the base of his tongue, shattered his cervical vertebra, and emerged from the back of his neck in a pale flash.
The assassin convulsed. Then he was dead.
"What the—!?"
The remaining assassin shouted. The hand that had been gripping his waistband seized his blade and swung it at Yuri.
Yuri tilted her head slightly to dodge, slipping past the assassin's armpit.
She wrenched her sword free from the dead man's mouth in one motion and spun horizontally.
Shhk.
A light sound, like paper being cut. The blade crossed the assassin's abdomen. A moment of stillness as the skin parted and a red line was drawn — then, unable to withstand the pressure, his entrails spilled out onto the forest floor in a steaming cascade.
"Ah…?"
He looked down with a blank expression, bowing his head as if trying to catch what was falling from inside him with both hands.
Yuri didn't blink at the gruesome sight. She walked toward him with steady steps, and brought her sword straight down vertically onto the neck of the assassin bowing his head like a supplicant.
Thud.
A severing sound. The severed head rolled to a stop at Yuri's feet.
Yuri looked down at the corpse on the ground with empty eyes.
She slowly swung her sword, shaking the fresh blood from the blade. Then she dragged over the dead man's cloak and wiped the blade clean with a slow, smooth stroke.
Those violet eyes were hollow. Blank, as if possessed by something, she was cleaning the sword unconsciously.
"Yuri."
Matyos struggled to his feet and shook her by the shoulder.
Yuri's blade stopped just short of Matyos's throat.
"…It's me."
Matyos swallowed hard, staring at the sword barely grazing his neck.
"Ah—"
Only after meeting Matyos's grey eyes did Yuri finally come back to herself.
"Are you… okay?"
Matyos asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. More importantly… what about you? Are you okay?"
Yuri looked at Matyos with a dazed expression.
"…I'm not particularly—"
That was when it happened.
[The Spirit's Blessing has ended.]
[Aftereffects are manifesting.]
Drip.
Mid-sentence, Matyos coughed up blood and lost consciousness.