Chapter 10: The First Assassination Mission (2)

It is a grave felony to impersonate or forge the crest of a noble house.

All the more so if someone is foolish enough to recklessly brandish the ‘Star and Dagger’.

Of course, such fools do exist.

But among the living, there are none.

“I-I am of the Duchy of Nightwalker—”

The heavily armored City Guard surrounding Sien collectively held their breath.

It was at that moment.

“Don’t make me laugh!”

Baron Solzberg roared.

The calm and leisurely air he’d shown until now vanished completely from his expression.

“There’s no way those people would show themselves in person for the sake of some nobody like me! It’s a fake! That brat is obviously an imposter!”

Baron Solzberg desperately gestured, refusing to accept the reality before his eyes.

“City Guard, what are you doing?! Kill him at once! That boy dares to impersonate those people—he’s a fraud, an unrepentant swindler!”

It’s always the same.

Those targeted by the blade of the Nightwalker Family refuse to accept the reality right in front of them.

“Whether you believe it or not isn’t important, Baron Solzberg.”

No matter how much he denied or avoided it, nothing would change.

Sien walked forward calmly.

He showed not the slightest concern for the spear tip pointed directly at his face.

At the same time, the heavily armored guards pointing their spears at Sien stepped aside, forming a path for him.

“What are you doing?! How dare mere City Guard disobey my direct orders?!”

Just minutes ago, this man had wielded unchallenged authority.

Now, no matter how desperately he shouted, the City Guard didn’t so much as bat an eye.

Such is the nature of the city.

If you don’t possess that much sense, you’ll never survive here.

Clang!

The heavily armored guards, fully clad in plate, knelt before Sien all at once.

“…We pay our respects to the one who walks the night.”

Just moments ago, these city dignitaries were busy fawning over Baron Solzberg, eager for his favor.

Now they bowed as if facing the true ruler of the land.

The atmosphere flipped in an instant, cold as ice.

He was no longer the one in command here.

The mood among Baron Solzberg’s escort knights was no different.

The only difference was that they were not city people, but knights sworn to serve their lord.

“And you call yourselves noble knights?!”

A fully-armored knight, whose craftsmanship showed in every line of his steel armor, lashed out at the lesser knights wavering behind him.

“Draw your swords at once and protect your lord!”

“My apologies, Sir Carlson! But, but that person is…”

“One who walks the night, of the Duchy of Nightwalker…”

“What are you saying?”

The full knight rebuked his subordinates with a heavy voice.

“…Forgive us, one who walks the night.”

He did not doubt Sien’s identity either.

None of the knights’ faces showed any suspicion toward the Star and Dagger crest embroidered on Sien’s coat.

“Why do you block my way?”

“No matter the circumstance, it is our sacred and noble duty as knights to lay down our lives for our lord.”

“I see.”

Sien answered with an air of indifference, as if it was someone else’s problem.

Live by honor, die by honor—that is the creed of knights.

Even if it is nothing more than a suicidal act with no chance of victory, they are bound by oath.

Sien, too, had an oath he must fulfill.

“Is that the will of all of you?”

“W-we…”

Sien turned to the lesser knights behind him and asked.

Even now, the other lesser knights hesitated, wavering between realistic self-preservation and the prohibition—the shame of betraying knighthood and the fear of death.

Sien couldn’t help but let out a faint laugh at their indecision.

“It’s your only life; I’ll give you a little more time to think.”

“Shameful cowards, disgraces to knighthood—”

The full knight was about to shout his fury at the disgraceful lesser knights.

Screeech.

From beneath Sien’s sleeve, a cold glint flashed.

The razor-sharp Steel Stiletto Dagger slid out like a viper toward the knight before him.

At the same time, the knight swung his Arming Sword, its blade flashing with cold light.

“…!”

Whoosh!

But his sword struck nothing.

The blades did not clash, nor did any sound ring out.

It was as if he’d swung at empty air, leaving nothing but a hollow aftertaste.

It was as though he were facing a phantom, like the mask of a wraith Sien wore.

As if swinging at a shadow—the tip of the sword met nothing.

Like slashing at the moon reflected on a lake.

Only then did realization dawn.

“This… This is the sword form of the Nightwalker Family!”

Knights often say that swords can speak, that in crossing blades, much can be conveyed.

But these swords were different.

Their blades spoke not a word—nothing was exchanged, nothing could be read.

It was as if all sound in the world had vanished.

[Pose of the Wraith.]

Erase all presence and conceal existence to the utmost; the opponent’s sword senses nothing.

No impact, no resonance.

That was the true form of the chilling silence Sien’s blade produced.

The first of the Nine Sword Forms inherited by the Assassins of the Nightwalker Family.

Slash!

In the midst of frenzied movement, Sien’s Steel Stiletto Dagger slipped through a gap in the knight’s loosened armor, aiming for the carotid artery in his neck.

Splat!

Blood sprayed like a fountain.

The knight, stabbed in the artery, collapsed slowly, his scream fading with his strength.

He’d never expected to win.

But as one who honored the knight’s way and cherished honor, he’d hoped for a more knightly, noble, and honorable end.

It was not to be.

Thud!

The knight toppled, his armor clattering as it was soaked in blood.

“Have you finally made your decision?”

Sien addressed the lesser knights who wavered between empty honor and their own lives.

“Forgive my rudeness!”

There was no more reason to hesitate—they had already died inside.

“Y-you…! And you still call yourselves knights?!”

The heavily armored guards of the City Guard, the city dignitaries, even the direct escort knights who should have protected the baron—all knelt before Sien.

No one remained to protect him now.

Terrified, Baron Solzberg turned to flee, but the wall of onlookers hemming him in would not allow it.

In that state, Sien walked forward, step by step.

“W-why are you doing this to me alone?!”

Baron Solzberg, who was also the city magistrate, shouted desperately as Sien approached.

“It’s not just me! Everyone else in this city is the same! They’re all corrupt!”

Those facing death all go through the same stages, as if by some unspoken agreement.

First comes denial—they turn away, refusing to face reality.

“I have a ledger! I have a list of all the corrupt in this city—people you could cut down! I’ll give you everything—my fortune, my title, everything I have! Please, spare my life!”

Next comes rage, then negotiation and bargaining.

Yet there was nothing Baron Solzberg could offer the Nightwalker Family.

Sien roughly grabbed the baron by the hair and, with a swift motion, drew his dagger across the man’s throat.

Blood spattered.

***

“Welcome home, my dear.”

When Sien returned to the ducal residence, the Mother of Assassins greeted her son with a gentle smile.

“You accomplished your mission splendidly.”

“You flatter me.”

Her tone was as if she’d watched everything that happened, palm outstretched, knowing every detail.

But this was not unusual.

She had many eyes and ears.

What happened in the Free City of Silenche could not have escaped her notice.

“I heard you used the ‘Pose of the Wraith’ to bring down a knight.”

“That was the swordsmanship of the family, taught to me first by you, Mother.”

“Indeed, but my eyes and ears report something odd.”

“Something odd?”

Sien asked, and Laila replied with a meaningful smile.

“They say your mastery was so perfect, it’s hard to believe you only just began learning it.”

“Who said that?”

Sien feigned innocence with a calm smile.

“Someone who’s not even of the family cannot possibly grasp the depth of our swordsmanship, can they?”

“Hm, that’s true.”

Laila continued, amused.

“Then will you show me here and now?”

Screeech.

Even as she spoke, Laila was suddenly gripping a blade, its edge shimmering with icy blue light.

He hadn’t realized the moment she drew the sword, nor even as she gripped it.

Even now, holding the sword, he felt nothing.

—Visible, yet unseen. Audible, yet unheard.

She was right before his eyes, yet seemed not to exist at all.

He didn’t even realize she was closing the distance until Laila was right in front of him, her blade swinging at his face.

Only then did Sien’s body react.

It was the same sense of wrongness the knight who’d faced Sien had felt.

This was the Pose of the Wraith, wielded by none other than the head of the Nightwalker Family, the Mother of Assassins herself.

As its alternate name suggests, a master assassin fully versed in the first form of the family’s swordsmanship could erase their presence completely.

This was far beyond simply masking breath or suppressing killing intent.

Even when a sword was swung right before their eyes, the opponent would not realize it—not even at the moment of death.

If one suppressed even their unconscious life signs and aura—the very energy unconsciously released through breath and metabolism—then even though the opponent’s eyes and ears could sense, their mind could not register them.

They saw, yet did not see; heard, yet did not hear.

—It was only that sense of unease, like gazing at the moon reflected in a lake.

This ultimate concealment, the assassin’s sword that erased the self.

There was a reason the Pose of the Wraith held the position of the first form among the original assassination sword forms.

And it was also this very sword form that defined the identity of the Nightwalker Family as true ‘Assassins.’

At that moment, the head of the family, the Mother of Assassins, stopped her sword just a few millimeters from Sien’s retina.

“Why are you not perturbed?”

Laila asked.

“…Why should I be?”

“Anyone else would be frightened to have a blade pointed at their eyes so suddenly.”

“I only believed that Mother would never hurt me.”

Sien replied.

“Besides, how could I possibly perceive Mother’s Pose of the Wraith?”

It was the finest assassination technique of their time, wielded by Laila Nightwalker herself.

There was no way he could perceive it.

Yet, Sien’s eyes never let go of her movements, even if his body could not keep up.

“From the start, your pupils have been sharply observing my stance.”

“There’s no way I could read Mother’s movements.”

For Sien, who had only just begun learning the family’s swordsmanship, it was nearly impossible to grasp her movements.

Even if what she showed now wasn’t her full strength.

Laila, too, was aware of that fact.

She was adept at reading the hearts of others.

“You’re lying, Sien.”