Damn.
I almost died.
Number 22, leaning against the wall, exhaled roughly.
The wound piercing his lung was recovering quickly.
He didn’t have the leeway to reattach his severed ribs.
If his blood had been even a bit thinner, he wouldn’t have been able to maintain the magic spread across the area.
Number 22 had a talent different from other wind mages.
His way of using wind was to offset and distort air vibrations, eliminating sound.
He couldn’t shoot sharp blades like Ventios, but it was an equally lethal spell.
I really almost died.
Deep fear lingered on the face of Number 22, who wielded such magic freely.
His arm wouldn’t respond.
Anplus had spun three times, leaving three thick lines across his torso.
The muscles were minced like porridge from the twisting slashes, making recovery difficult.
Is that guy really a knight? We’ve trained enough to handle most knights with just our swords—
Then, Number 5’s estoc snapped.
Anplus kicked up the fragment and embedded it into Number 5’s shoulder.
Watching that movement, Number 22 was horrified.
The only reason he didn’t freeze up was pure camaraderie.
“Number 5!”
Letting out a silent scream, Number 22 charged forward.
He swung his war hammer wide, the one that could shatter masts and breastplates in a single blow.
At that moment, Anplus was tracking the invisible Number 34’s position with his eyes and mind.
Just once, if I can hit him just once, I can win!
Number 22’s war hammer traced a majestic arc, falling toward Anplus’s chest.
The instant he thought it connected and started to rejoice, the knight’s tall frame moved.
Anplus caught the war hammer with his sword laid flat, one hand on the hilt and the other on the blade’s front.
Thud! The war hammer and sword collided, sending out a shockwave.
In that moment, Number 22 felt a recoil like punching a massive tree and staggered.
His unhealed deep wounds burst open all at once, gushing blue blood.
You won’t get away unscathed either… Huh!?
Number 22 doubted his eyes.
Anplus’s body floated into the air as well.
But he didn’t lose his balance and continued tracking Number 34’s position.
He wasn’t staggering pathetically like himself.
He even seemed composed, as if he’d kicked off the ground on purpose.
Only then did Number 22 realize Anplus had deliberately leaped into the air to dissipate the impact.
By the gods.
At that moment, Number 5 created a variable.
Having slumped down gripping the estoc blade deeply embedded in his shoulder, he gathered electricity.
I’ll land at least one hit, you monster!
Yellow electricity burst forth.
It struck Anplus’s body directly as he hung in the air.
The irresistible shock made the knight’s muscles contract, screaming in pain.
His body, which had shed the hammer’s impact, fell to the ground.
The lightning tried to force him to his knees.
But Anplus grabbed the bedpost and held on.
His forearm muscles spasmed, leaving deep handprints in the bedpost made of steel-hard northern conifer heartwood.
“Gaaah!”
Yet he didn’t collapse, even as his legs trembled from disrupted electrical signals and smoke rose from his back.
Insane.
The horrified Number 5 gathered even the mana meant for healing his wound into his left hand.
Anplus wasn’t one to miss that.
But his attention was still on Number 34.
Right now, Number 34 was an assassin neither heard nor seen.
He could only track his position through attacks.
At first, he precisely gauged the distance from Number 34’s original position before vanishing to Ribelia, predicted his path from the step he took just before fully disappearing, and used a wide-sweeping technique to increase the odds of hitting.
Decisively, in that fleeting moment, he could see the faint outline of the guy’s body rippling as he moved.
That’s how he landed the direct hit, but he had no intention of gambling again.
The stakes in this fight were too heavy.
He’s probably up by now.
Having made his judgment, Anplus drew his shoulder back fully.
Number 5’s eyes widened.
The new sword, a 4kg hunk of metal, cleaved through the air toward Number 5’s forehead.
In that instant, Number 5 had gathered all his mana.
I’m faster! …Huh?
The sword-throwing knight was leaping toward empty space on the left.
It was a movement as if blocking the side of the bed.
In that moment, Ribelia came into Number 5’s direct line of sight.
This is my chance!
Thud.
A broad-bladed sword plunged deep into his left shoulder.
The blade protruded more than a handspan out the back.
It was so wide it was closer to chopping than stabbing.
His arm dangled limply.
In that horrific pain, Number 5’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed.
It wasn’t a wound even a blue blood could recover from easily.
***
That guy’s out of the fight now. He might fire off two or three more bolts if he’s willing to die, but I can spot the signs well enough.
Confirming that firmly, Anplus blocked the path of Number 34, who should be up by now, with his body.
If he wore a breastplate…
Then he could have blocked short swords with his body alone.
But now he was bare, and he had no choice but to get cut.
Gritting his teeth as he saw the hazy silhouette wavering under the backlit window.
If I can just figure out the position of his feet or hands, I can backtrack to how his body’s moving. Just take one hit. Or I can take one instead.
If that was more reliable, it didn’t matter.
The three years of meaningless pain had changed the meaning of pain for Anplus.
To him, pain was either meaningless or meaningful.
Saving the family’s heir from cowardly, evil assassins and earning merit was sufficiently meaningful.
He could endure meaningful pain anytime.
Anplus assumed a bare-handed fighting stance, extending both hands forward.
He deliberately threw punches into empty air to lure Number 34 into complacency.
“Brother?”
The moment anxiety tinged Ribelia’s voice, Number 34 charged at Anplus.
That woman is a direct pureblood. If the wound’s even a bit shallow, I won’t kill her. I need to slit her throat when that knight can’t interfere. Take out the knight first.
Number 34 quickly scanned Anplus’s tall frame.
I have to aim only for vitals. Stab his right arm with my left to paralyze it, then stab the liver and lungs with my right, and slit the throat. No matter how great a knight he is, his recovery is weaker than ours. Before the electricity’s aftereffects fade!
Anplus thought as he listened to his own heartbeat.
I knew you’d come if you heard Ribelia sounding anxious.
He felt bad for her, but to deceive the enemy, start with your allies.
Anplus glared at the unnaturally rippling empty space.
He saw me?
Number 34 flinched.
No one had ever pierced his magic of refracting light to cloak his body.
Even fellow light mages couldn’t detect the technique.
Even granting a hundred concessions that the first time was luck since not much time had passed after vanishing.
But from the second onward, it was skill, not coincidence.
It’s too late now, knight!
Gritting his teeth, Number 34 thrust his short sword.
He stabbed Anplus’s thick forearm with all his might.
Slash. Feeling the unique sensation of the sword cutting flesh, Number 34 panicked.
Why is it so tough!?
It felt like cutting beast hide, not human flesh.
He somehow sliced the skin, but the sword wouldn’t go deeper inside.
It was like iron wires embedded in the muscle fibers.
Training or whatever, this isn’t a texture that can come from a human body.
His doubt multiplied several times when he saw the blue blood flowing down the short sword.
“Pureblood?”
Number 34 gaped invisibly, muttering in a voiceless whisper.
At that moment, Anplus sketched the invisible enemy’s form in the air.
Short sword length is two handspans. His hand is two handspans below my left arm. From the stabbing angle, the wrist and forearm extend in that direction, so the shoulder connects to the right like this.
Like solving a Sudoku puzzle, Number 34’s appearance, position, and posture formed in his mind.
It was an ability aggregated from his unique observation, spatial sense, and knowledge of human skeletons from his father’s room.
He’d done something similar in his fight with Seongbaek.
Imagining leg movements from the toes, waist and upper body from the legs.
Let alone, the opponent was weaker and slower than Seongbaek.
“Got you.”
Muttering under his breath, Anplus extended his left hand toward the image in his mind.
He grabbed the neck precisely.
If sound could be heard, it would have been a Gurgle! kind of scream.
He felt the guy’s Adam’s apple bob in his left grip.
In the next instant, Anplus gripped Number 34’s neck and kicked off the ground.
Thud! He slammed the body into the wall with all his strength.
Number 34 expelled air from his lungs and dropped the short sword in his right hand.
Anplus unleashed boiling rage on the invisible human in his grasp.
You touched someone you shouldn’t have.
Both the fact they’d attacked Ribelia and the ploy to completely oust Intezeruto from the throne enraged him.
Strength surged into Anplus’s forearm, and the sound of muscles and bones crushing came from Number 34’s neck.
Thrashing in suffocating pain, Number 34 wildly swung his short sword.
What strength!
His vision was going black.
Slash, rip!
The repeatedly swung short sword cut the knight’s muscular body.
The stiff cotton shirt tore, drawing blood lines on the sculpted physique.
Anplus targeted above the neck he held with his left and threw a right punch.
The technique of pushing deep and returning the reactive impact.
It was the blow that shattered Kirie’s ice sheet.
Boom!
The sensation of the guy’s nasal bone collapsing transmitted clearly to his hand.
The magic seemed to be breaking, as the body flickered in and out of visibility.
Anplus raised his fist once more.
“I’ll turn you into fried pork!”
I’m going to die.
Gritting his teeth, Number 34 stabbed downward at Anplus’s left arm with the short sword held in reverse.
The short sword, stabbing between the radius and ulna, trembled.
Anplus paused for a moment, then squeezed his left arm even harder.
Blue blood flowed, and Number 34’s body lifted into the air.
He felt the guy’s flailing feet kicking his own calves in midair.
***
Ribelia exhaled roughly, looking at her brother and the three assassins.
One lay collapsed with his arm nearly severed, one was being pummeled, and one crawled on the floor bleeding.
He’s up?
The hammer-wielding Number 22 put strength into his legs.
Whether from his father or mother, he was a bastard who’d inherited unusually deep blood.
Seeing Number 22’s blood color, Ribelia gripped the dagger her brother had given her.
With no sound, she couldn’t shout to alert him.
And going down to attack directly was tough.
Ribelia glanced at her own slender limbs.
I haven’t learned hand-to-hand combat. The arm-severed assassin is still alive, and if I step wrong, I might get hammered and electrocuted.
She didn’t know if she’d live or die, but she knew she wasn’t someone who should recklessly gamble.
While Anplus fought like that for her, if she foolishly stepped in and became a hostage or died, it would be the ultimate burden.
But she had to warn her brother of the danger.
This sound-canceling magic. Can’t I break it somehow?
Ribelia squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them.
She had trouble gathering mana properly or controlling it when it surged too fiercely.
Her sky-colored officer-mage relatives had reassured her.
Some blue bloods take over a hundred years to handle mana properly, they said; it took them over thirty, so don’t worry too much.
But having seen Anplus’s case, Ribelia couldn’t relax.
Above all, as a blue blood, she yearned for power.
Unlike her, who couldn’t even control magic, her brother, fighting with his trained body and sword, looked increasingly impressive for that reason.
Because I want to help. As a noble, not an administrator.
That was the difference between nobles and administrative bureaucrats.
Nobles had to be able to wield force if they wished.
Ribelia widened her eyes and drew in mana.
I can’t use magic properly yet. But for now, I’m a pureblood too.
Anplus and the three assassins suddenly felt a chilling shiver, like electricity coursing through their bodies.
“Insane.”
It wasn’t clear who said it first.
The mana’s in the area began surging into Ribelia’s body.