Margrave’s Bastard Son was The Emperor [EN]: Chapter 63

“Hey.”

As the end of the alley came into view, the assassins initiated their attack. They stopped their silent pursuit and made their presence known. Just a few more steps would lead to the main road, so the narrow and dark alley was advantageous for eliminating a person.

“Ian?”

“Do you know me?”

Swish!

As soon as they confirmed their target, the group drew their swords and charged. Their faces and bodies were completely covered in black hoods, making it seem like shadows were attacking.

Clang! Clang!

Beric reflexively drew his sword and met them head-on. The clash was so sharp that sparks instantly flew from the blades. It was proof that the opponents were giving it their all.

Swish!

And that also meant they knew Beric’s skills. They knew that if they couldn’t take him down in one blow, there was no chance.

While three or four of them kept Beric in check, the remaining one would attack by thrusting their sword. The enemies’ attacks were relentless, targeting his cheeks, neck, and sides.

“Oh, you?”

A struggle ensued as swords clashed, each side trying to push the other back. Although he hadn’t unleashed the power of the Magic Swordsman, the opponent was pushing back with considerable force.

Watching this, Ian stepped back and observed the situation. The way they held their swords and their ability to maintain distance were not ordinary. These were not raw skills learned in back alleys, but the movements of someone who had received systematic training.

Judging by the situation, there was a high possibility that they were directly related to Molin.

“Beric! That one! Yes, don’t kill that one!”

“If I don’t kill him? Should I just cut off his arms?”

“Just handle it well…”

“Ugh!”

Beric asked that as he plunged his sword into the thigh of one of the goons.

‘But this is strange. If they know Beric’s skills, they should also know that I am a mana user.’

No one was attacking Ian. If it was Molin, who knew the power of mana better than anyone, he wouldn’t just leave Ian, the target and obstacle, alone.

Swoosh.

At that moment, numerous shadows stretched out behind Ian. More than a dozen armed thugs were entering the alley from the main road.

“Ha. Figures.”

More than I thought. They came well-prepared.

Ian tried to gauge the number of enemies by sight, but it was too dark. As they drew their swords, Ian just stepped back and smiled.

“You’re all working hard in the middle of the night.”

“Don’t talk nonsense. You’re Ian, right?”

“Yes. I’m Ian.”

He could see why it took some time from planning to executing the assassination. It wasn’t just that there weren’t any opportunities, but it was also because they were gathering so many people.

Zzzing.

Ian activated his golden eyes. Mana surged, creating a subtle temperature of wind, and those who had never seen a mage before were startled and paused.

But that was only for a moment.

Trusting in their overwhelming numbers, they approached.

“Aren’t you all afraid? Why are you doing this?”

“Shut up! Just give up your life.”

“Do you know how much money is on your head?”

In fact, even after repeated training to earn the title of mage, there were hardly any useful spells that a mana user could use. Mana only resonated with mana, and it was still far from the glory that was once praised for turning the world upside down.

“Die!”

Swish!

Clang!

The man at the front charged first. Ian also drew his sword and swung his arm wide, deflecting the attack to the side. At the same time, he grabbed the man’s face with his left hand.

“Wh-”

Zzzing!

And he poured out mana with all his might. Just like he did to Beric in the training grounds, an invisible force poured into his insides.

“Cough, cough…”

As the man staggered back, the thugs also paused for a moment. Blood was flowing from all the holes—eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. The man, wiping his face, trembled in panic.

‘It’s not working.’

Ian frowned slightly, looking down at his hand. It wasn’t something he used often, but it was an easy attack spell. Normally, his head should have exploded.

“Wh-what the heck-”

“You idiot. Why are you hesitating instead of stabbing him right away!”

“Looks like you guys know each other well.”

“Why would a guy about to die need to know that!”

Judging by their vulgar and rough language, they didn’t seem to be from the Imperial Palace. They seemed like commoners, but were they from Bratz [a territory or region]?

While Ian was pondering, the thugs, leaving the bloodied man behind, charged at him simultaneously.

“Yaaah!”

Swish!

A flash of a blade appeared in front of them in an instant. It was Beric. He had already knocked down the guys who were clinging to him and had come running. Blood was dripping from Beric’s hair. Looking back, the floor was flooded with blood. All of it was from the thugs.

“I’m so sleepy, and these bastards are making me exercise in the moonlight?”

“Beric, did you kill them?”

“I don’t know. I just stabbed them.”

“…Beric. Just in case, leave one alive. Please.”

If they weren’t from the Bratz territory, they needed to know where they came from. Cooperating with Molin meant they were an obstacle to Ian.

Zzzing.

Ian gave the order and grabbed Beric’s shoulder. His blood-soaked hair fluttered in the night breeze, and Beric’s vitality began to return. The clouds that had been covering the moon scattered, and the surroundings gradually brightened.

“Haa… Is it because I’m tired? Today’s high is amazing.”

“Even when you express yourself, do you have to do it like that?”

“Get out of the way!! You bastards!!”

Whoosh!

Beric’s voice, which had been exhausted, rang out sharply. At the same time, someone’s head flew off.

Swish!

It was so instantaneous that even as blood gushed from his neck, the thugs stood there blankly. It was a speed that they couldn’t comprehend as reality.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh!”

“Ki, kill him!”

“Forward, forward!”

“Don’t push, damn it!”

Beric, bracing himself against the wall, swung his sword. Screams, of unknown origin, scattered everywhere along his path. There were those who tried to reach Ian, avoiding him, but Ian, who was in a defensive stance, parried them with his sword.

Swish!

It didn’t seem like human movement. He only grazed the blade showers pouring in from all directions, not giving them any room. He reflexively parried, stabbed, and cut…

“Ugh!”

“Damn it! Aaaah!”

The narrow alley. It was clearly a fatally disadvantageous condition for Beric, but the reality was the opposite. A distance where even a slight swing would hit someone’s vital point, that was what the alley meant to Beric.

“Haa…”

And after a while. A mountain of corpses and a pool of blood. Beric was also completely red except for his eyes.

“I told you to leave one alive.”

“He’s alive here. He’s twitching.”

Beric tapped someone’s head with the tip of his sword. And then he grinned and clenched his fist.

“Ugh! Feels so good!”

It was a different kind of pleasure than defeating a strong opponent. The feeling of slaughter that came from an overwhelming difference in power. Sometimes, instead of fierce and desperate battles, something like this wasn’t so bad. A cheap thrill of the blade, Beric was enjoying just that much joy.

“Exhilarating! Refreshing! Thrilling! Hahaha!”

‘He’s a madman.’

Ian left the raving Beric alone and approached the group that had attacked first. And he removed their hoods one by one to check their faces.

Among them was a man groaning. It was the man Ian had told them to leave alive. Feeling his upper body, the well-defined muscles gave him certainty. He was someone who made a living with his body.

“He looks familiar…”

“Really? Let me see.”

“Doesn’t he look like someone we’ve seen around?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. But he’s ugly.”

The man groaned and twitched his left hand. And then he brought his palm up as if to cover his cheek. Ian thought it was a meaningless struggle of a dying man.

He just thought it was a trick to cover his face, but…

“Ugh!”

“Wh, what? Why is he like this?”

“Damn it!”

The man had a ring on his left middle finger. It seemed to be a tool with a poison needle built in for self-destruction.

The man trembled all over and let out a painful scream. Ian reflexively tried to stop him, but it was already too late. He had no choice but to stuff a cloth into the man’s mouth as a temporary measure.

“Ugh…”

“Ew, his face is really messed up?”

Beric, who usually didn’t budge, stepped back and muttered. Necrosis was rapidly progressing around the area where the poison needle had pierced. Flesh was falling off, and his form was changing horribly. Even if his parents came, they probably wouldn’t recognize him.

“I’m going to move the survivor and this one to the mansion. Go and call for people.”

He intended to completely hide his identity by disfiguring his face. That meant that the man had taken the initiative in this matter. If the man’s identity was lost in the maze, Molin would be safe.

At that moment, Beric tapped the man’s side with his foot.

“Should I carry him? But he’s heavy, so maybe I should cut off some parts.”

“Beric.”

“Just kidding. Just kidding.”

The path to the main road was blocked by a pile of corpses. Beric casually pushed through the corpses, and soon the lights of the guard, which had been intentionally off for several days, came on.

* * *

“Did they take care of it?”

Mack, who had been anxiously looking out the window, couldn’t hold back and gulped down his wine. Ignoring the wine that was dripping down his chin.

“There were more than ten of them. In that narrow alley, even if they just grazed him once, he would have more than a dozen wounds. There’s no way he’s safe.”

Degore, who had been sitting silently on the sofa, replied. Even if they failed, their subordinate, Petreio, was someone who would never mess up the cleanup. He possessed a poison needle that would instantly melt a face, so the connection between them and Molin’s group would be forever silenced.

“What if they fail?”

“Mack. You tend to be too anxious.”

“This is about taking precautions!”

Thump!

Mack slammed the table nervously. Molin glared at him, signaling him to restrain himself.

“You’re going to wake up all the servants.”

“So, sorry, sir.”

“Petreio is a skilled man. Although he’s getting old, he was once the commander of the Imperial Guard directly under the prince, and above all, he’s a man of integrity, so there won’t be any trouble. You and I both know that.”

Just two young punks.

He had heard rumors that Beric was a skilled fighter, but Molin had just brushed it off. Ian was also a mana user, but he was only sixteen. His limits were obvious.

“Pouring out mana is only good for a few times. If he has to face more than a dozen strong men, he’ll be the first to collapse.”

“And even if, just if, they fail, can they easily touch us without any evidence? If we die, another investigation team will come down.”

That was the situation they wanted to avoid the most. Only then did Mack calm down a bit, apologizing and shaking his head.

“I’m sorry. I, I think I got a little excited.”

It was then.

Knock knock! Knock knock knock!

Someone was knocking roughly on the door. All three men stiffened and swallowed hard. In the dead of night, there were only two people who would come looking for them.

Petreio, who had succeeded in his mission.

Or…

“Wh, who is it…”

Creak.

The red hair visible through the door. Whether it was covered in blood or his skin was peeled off, his whole body was bright red. Beric wiped his face and smiled.

“…Were you waiting for someone named Petreio?”

“What the…”

Molin was also surprised and stood up without realizing it.

“Everyone, come out as you are.”

“Wh, what kind of rudeness is this!”

Swish.

In response to their shouts, Beric answered by drawing his sword. Then he pointed it at Degore’s neck, getting close enough to cut him at any moment.

“Ian said I could cut you if I wanted to.”

“You lowly thing! We came from the Imperial Palace…”

“I know. But this is the frontier.”

The frontier.

A place that opens up so many possibilities.

“Ian said they don’t care about that kind of thing in the frontier.”