62 The night tainted in blood

(Third POV)

In the advancement toward the group Paul and Therese are running at, the assassins lurking in the shadows see this as an opportunity to strike, but seized it.

These assassins are led by their leader, who is said to be the strongest and on par with king-class swordsmen in skill and strength. He was a special elite man whose jobs were kept secret from Millis's royal family.

None of them are particularly trained in a specific sword style, mainly in the methods that involve torturing and/or killing people.

And their main target is more than one person.

Their orders are to capture Norn Greyrat and dispose of the rest of them. They were supposed to make it seem like a monster attack, using the coverage of night to their advantage, but that plan failed before it even began.

Paul Greyrat, known to be a talented swordsman but never rose from advanced rank due to lack of proper training, noticed the squad, and alarmed the rest of his group.

This predicament may have played out unfavorable but has not yet defined overall failure in stone.

By the time they reorganized themselves, Paul and Therese, together with the rest, were already getting their things ready.

"Daddy? What's happening?"

"Everything's going to be alright, Norn. Just stay close to the others."

Despite the attempt to reassure his daughter and the rest of the group, Paul himself was not confident enough that they would make it out unscathed.

Meanwhile, four individual objects were flying towards the non-fighters.

Thanks to the lit campfire, Paul noticed the objects on time and took action right away.

With his Water God Style skillset, he blocked all of the objects in a wide swing. Upon impact, sparks ignited, showing the assassins that their attacks from afar were not enough.

"Leader. What is the meaning of this? Wasn't he only supposed to be advanced rank in all three schools?"

"This reaction speed and spatial awareness is on par or even above with a Saint class."

"Those damn information brokers. Can't they do their job properly fo once."

"Calm down, men. Saint-class or not, he is the strongest in that group, and even he should have problems dealing with most of us. We should take care of him first before proceeding with the rest."

As a result of the debate, the group of assassins who were intending to stay in hiding decided to get out of hiding and go for a front confrontation with the swordsman.

But before that, a powder bag was thrown at the campfire to fully envelop the area in darkness. Four figures then started to approach the group, each of them is nearly identical in stature, covered in black cloth that gives them camouflage at night.

One of those assassins removed his sword from his belt, signaling the rest of them to do the same.

Once all of them stood on the road, Paul had made up his mind and gave out his directives to his group.

"Therese. Take them and run with the carriages."

"What?! You can't seriously think about taking them on your own?"

"That's why I'm giving you all the time. Run before they get you, and don't look back."

"Captain, you can't."

"Husband, this is suicide."

"Daddy, please, don't go."

Half of the group were in disagreement with Paul, but the other half consisting of Therese, Shierra, and the two carriage drivers, reluctantly agreed with Paul and forcefully dragged the others into one of the two carriages.

While they were running off, Norn cried out to her father, but Paul merely steeled himself for the opponents that were approaching him slowly.

"Heh. Pretty bold of you to think you could take the four of us." One of the men snickered.

For Paul, however, such a comment was nothing.

"As a fighter, perhaps. But as a man, far from it."

"Trying to sound cool, huh? Those are a deadman's last words."

And with those words, the first one to take the first step was the goon from the outer left, coming with his broad shortsword with a horizontal slash.

Paul easily parried and redirected the attack, but behind the assassin was a second one, having hidden himself behind the first one for a feint attack.

With his grip tightened, Paul switched from defense to offense the moment he was done parrying the first attack, crossing sword with the second assassin, who was about to thrust a poison-coated dagger in his other hand at Paul, but the latter having already noticed it and grabbing his worst and keeping hold of the assassin's arm.

The third and fourth assassins saw the opportunity, and each came from left and right.

Having spatial awareness even in the dark, Paul deliberately loosened his footing a bit for the second assassin to move further in between the cross-attack of the other two, who were already forfeiting their attack.

Now Paul used that moment of hesitation from them and pushed the second assassin to his left before kicking him to fly against the third assassin while simultaneously swinging his sword against the fourth one, who dodged his attack with a large backstep.

The second assassin was already going for his next attack to slash Paul across his back, but Paul noticed that, and instead of using his sword, he blocked and redirected the edge with his gauntlet, followed by grabbing the assassin's sword hilt to pull him towards himself and cutting both his hands in a swift motion.

Instead of letting go, Paul took on the shortsword as a secondary weapon and let the guy bleed out; his companions disregarded him and continued to finish their job.

The three remaining ones were reorganizing themselves, cursing under their masks how wrong their information about their target was.

Paul shook off the severed hands from the second sword he acquired and went into dual-wielding now. Such a form of swordsmanship wasn't very suited to his swordsmanship preferences, but with the tricky teamwork of those assassins, he needed the extra bit of defense prowess.

During his clash with the second assassin, he also noticed that they were physically weaker than him. It was because instead of muscle power, these people prioritized wits over strength, obviously more suitable for their work as assassins.

'What to do? Now they know to be cautious with me. They might pull out a strategy to counter that now.'

Sweat dropped from Paul's forehead as he steeled himself for the oncoming attack of the remaining three.

Their next move involved the outer two leaving into the woods, the middle one pulled off the spare longsword he had on his back and attacked Paul.

While Paul was occupied dealing with the middle guy, the other two each went and grabbed their bows and arrows. After deciding on a frontal attack, they left them behind the trees but ended up using them anyway.

Paul's decision to take the dead one's sword proved to be a good one, as he parried the middle guy's attacks while blocking any of the oncoming arrows simultaneously.

He was oblivious to his new ability to be aware of his surroundings on a different level from sheer instinct. This made the assassins's preorganized tactics less useful against him, especially since it seemed to them like he had eyes on the back of his head paired with night vision.

Panic formed within the other two assassins as they were running out of arrows to shoot at Paul, who kept the upper hand against the middle assassin.

Neither side received any direct hits and was struggling to get an opening done until Paul used another North God Style technique.

After throwing away the spare sword, he used the four-legged technique to maneuver enough to block any of the oncoming arrows with his own sword until he reached the middle guy (who was seeing that stance for the first time) and slipped through an opening to give him a swift [Longsword of Silence] that cut through the assassin's sword and cutting across the man's forehead, damaging enough of the frontal lobe to kill him.

The remaining two were at a loss for words. Even with Touki's assistance, cutting through another Touki user's sword would only be possible if the difference in the attacker's Touki power was great.

With things playing out differently than planned, the two bailed on defeating Paul and ran toward the carriage's direction, at least delivering the little girl back to Millishion.

But their opponent wasn't that easy to give up. He ran up to the assassin on the right side of the road. The assassin on the left noticed it and ran behind Paul to strike him.

The assassin on the right side of the road attempted to block Paul's diagonal downward slash, but Paul's speed was too much, and he slipped through another opening and hit the man across the chest, ending his third victim's life.

Meanwhile, the assassin on the left managed to cut into Paul's left shoulder, but the latter used the momentum of his previous attack to spin around and swing his sword diagonally upward from his right, but that only graced the assassin's chest a little.

Managing his footwork one more time, Paul tightened his muscles all over his body and dashed in with even more speed than before, surpassing his limit and using a [Longsword of Light], ascending to a Sword Saint.

With the last of them defeated, Paul breathed out heavily, the pain in his shoulder excruciating to bear. But his time to take a break was cut too short for him to take even a breather.

He heard the sound of applauding hands with footsteps getting closer and closer.

Turning his sight to the direction that led towards Millishion, another black-cloaked man steadily approached Paul in a leisurely manner.

"Congrats. Those office workers did a crappy job as always in gathering proper intel on our target's skill sets."

For Paul, his words fell on deaf ears. All he could think of at the moment was to devise a strategy to get out of this situation alive. He was aware that another person was watching him from the background, analyzing his patterns and coming up with a countermeasure against him.

"Is the Demon Expulsion Faction really that dead set on killing me to not even spare the life of a child?"

"Hah! You are as dumb as them if you think they would give a damn. And since you're as good as dead, I will give you a little intel to honor such a competent fighter.

Your mother-in-law has made a deal with her faction to give them everything they need to know about you. Albeit, none of it was something they couldn't get themselves.

The deal was to spare only Norn Latreia and bring her to her household. Everyone else can just be killed and let the rumor spread that a monster attack was the cause.

Ahahahaha~ what a cruel bitch! Oh, wait, who am I to call her cruel? I kill for a gosh darn living! Fuhahahaha~"

While the assassin laughed his brains out, Paul became infuriated by Claire's decision.

To go this far, despite Therese's warnings that Zenith will never forgive her, she still decides to reject the fact that all of it is utter cruelty.

But what put the icing on the top was something Paul couldn't forgive her for. Something that reminded him the most of why he hated nobles so much.

'That damn hag! Who the hell does she think she is to declare Norn a Latreia? The devil came over her if she thinks I will allow her to do as she pleases.'

Adrenalin gushed into his head as he gripped his sword tight with one hand and dashed towards the man in an instant, disregarding the wound he had on his shoulder.

This caught the assassin off guard. The estimated speed he thought Paul had would decrease with his blood loss, but it increased instead.

In fact, the downward slash he was executing was a perfect [Longsword of Light], throwing him into a panic.

However, he has experience with people using that technique and was still able to dodge his attack. Or so he thought.

Midway through Paul's attack, he already predicted the assassin would dodge, mainly because he is unaware that he is using the higher form of [Longsword of Silence].

From the grip on the hilt of his sword down to his footing on the ground, he curved the trajectory of his slash to change into a diagonal slash that went closer to the assassin leader.

With the very tip of Paul's sword, he reached the assassin, but it caused him nothing more than a slight scratch.

Despite wanting to overwhelm the guy more for a more fatal strike, Paul's body started to feel the recoil from keeping up with his progress. Only the other side recognizes that and feels a tinge of frustration from it.

Touching the area on his chest, he could tell that not only did his chest plate break, but Paul also got through the sturdy chainmail his opponent was wearing.

'To hell with those bastards. Not only is he more than advanced rank, but either his Touki or sword is sharp enough to cut through me like butter. He must've hid his true strength even to that old hag.'

Contrary to his theory, however, that was not the case. Paul began to improve during the fight against the underlings. Just like with his control over his Touki, Paul lets his instincts take hold and only cares about coming out victorious.

The assassin, on the other hand, clicked his tongue. What he thought would be another easy job sealed done became a hassle.

Although he felt confident he could still kill Paul, he decided to take out the two odd swords.

In the other world, these kinds of swords are best known as Egyptian khopesh. A type of sword curved into a hook with the outside portion sharpened. What distinguishes these ones from the other world ones is that they were coated in black and have a row of five toothlike hooks on each for the purpose of covering his victims in wounds like a monster would give.

Even at the sight of such bizarre weapons, Paul was still highly determined to defeat the assassin and make his way to the others.

Both sides get into position, the silence of the dead night being the only sound resonating around.

The assassin, cunning as he is, went for the first attack, swinging his left sword at Paul's neck.

It was an easy and predictable attack for Paul to dodge, even with the sword blending into the darkness.

But what Paul didn't know was that the sword was thrown at him while being attached with a special thin thread to the assassin's wrist, getting enough reach done to get behind his neck with its hooks piercing lightly into it.

As soon as the assassin notices the usual feeling he gets when he hits his target, he pulls back his left sword and tightly holds the one on his right as he swings it.

Paul instinctively knew not to go back, left or right, and risking his neck being slashed by either swords. So his only choice was forward. And because of the short time, a counterattack with the sword had to be substituted with a bodyslam.

The assassin was impressed. Not many of his victims sought this option, but this target of his has been rather on the reckless side of things in the last fight as well.

As Paul slammed into the assassin's body, he attempted to stab him once he had a little more footing to work with, but his opponent used the momentum and kicked the ground, letting himself fall back while getting Paul's left foot hooked with his right sword.

With Paul now losing his footing again, the left sword swung at him again with its edged side. Paul tried to block it with his right forearm protector, but it cut at his wrist instead.

Gaining more distance with a backward roll, the two of them were now back to their original distance, but only one side had received damage.

Paul now had three individual wounds that severely interfered with his swordsmanship.

And for the assassin, it brought forth the sense of euphoria he felt whenever his target became dispaired with wounds caused by him. And for that reason, he went out of his way to enjoy this fight some more.

With the skill set of any assassin, he dashed around the place with barely any sound at all, using the dead of darkness as an addition to his dark clothing, completely blending into the surroundings more.

Paul immediately went into a Water God Style stance, panicking slightly as his eyes hadn't adapted themselves enough to the night yet. There was little to no sound coming from the assassin, giving him one more disadvantage to deal with.

All he had to rely on was his newfound ability of detection, which he hadn't mastered yet at all.

Occasionally, he would notice the assassin getting close to him, but because of the surprise factor of the surroundings, he sustained minor wound after wound, only being able to block his attacks half of the time.

Soon, the number of wounds put a toll on Paul, and the number of openings on him grew.

'I need to do something. I need to win. I need to... think more.'

With a deep breath, Paul went back into a stance, this time a Sword God Style one, his sword held above his head. And although he doesn't fully grasp this new skill he just developed, he paid attention to it.

In only a matter of seconds, he became aware of the assassin's location, sneaking behind him but then going to his left. Once he came close enough, Paul swung his sword down and missed his target for swinging it down too early.

But the assassin was startled by this and fell back, getting ready for Paul's onslaught of attacks afterward.

After blocking three hits from him, the assassin went back into hiding to collect himself.

What he thought was a lucky guess from Paul was more than it seems. And even after two more times, Paul kept missing his target by getting his strikes blocked.

It was then that Paul was getting frustrated. Not simply because of his fight but of himself and his arrogance from his younger years. Frustrated that he didn't take his training any seriously and now has to pay for it by losing his loved ones.

He gritted his teeth as the adrenalin from all his wounds rushed to his head all at once, giving him new strength altogether.

The next time the assassin came in for another attack, Paul not only parried both swords in a circular sword swing but used the momentum to land his second hit against the assassin, another slash to his chest.

Startled to witness another rise in improvement in Paul's prowess, the assassin got overwhelmed and retrieved back.

At that moment, the roles became reversed when Paul followed him in his every step, not leaving his opponent time to breathe.

The assassin was filled with fear as he performed a cross-slash with his swords.

Paul swatted the swords with his sword and moved forward for a punch, the assassin blocking it with his forearm. The impact was strong enough to give him hairline fractures.

'What the hell? How is he this strong? If I hadn't blocked that, he would have cracked my skull. Just what in the name of Millis is he?!'

Paul and the assassin continued their little swordsplay, each one trying to outsmart the other.

Paul's newfound mastery of the Water God Style and Sword God Style played a significant role in his now-reachable success. He was able to execute the perfect combination of the two styles, which overwhelmed the assassin, leaving him defenseless more often.

What Paul accomplished was a level of detection even Rudeus hadn't mastered yet. He can detect the assassin's every movement. From how he placed his footing and how firm it is down to the trajectories of any any limb and objects like the assassin's swords or threads, Paul can feel it as if he saw it with his eyes in slower perspection.

That of course also came to light to the assassin, so when he tried to take advantage of his extandable reach with his thread again, Paul got caught off guard by it.

But the next surprising change occurred when the sword should have cut into Paul's shoulder. Instead of injuring Paul further, the blades bounced off of him and ignited the dark with their little sparks.

The assassin assumed it was simply because Paul blocked them even faster now, but it was different. And it showed itself when the next attack with the right sword hit Paul against the head.

What became visible from the sparks were the golden yellow eyes of a predatory member of the Dragon race. Eyes that were piercing into the assassin's soul and shuddered it tremendously.

In that moment, the once self-assured and shady assassin became one of the typical pretentious characters whose power went over her head, only to break into panic once karma struck them the hardest.

And such fate hit the leader of the assassins as well, as his true strength was reliant on many factor, making him not much of a King class in a proper battle.

His movements became sloppier, his attacks more panicked, and his advantage of the night useless.

Once he tried another cross-slash attack, Paul slid beneath the trajectory of the swords and managed to cut both of the assassin's shins.

With the remaining footing he had, he leaped back, deciding a bit too late to forfeit the mission. And to his demise, his opponent was not that merciful.

Standing up again and holding his sword above his head, Paul was about to go for the last strike.

The night was full of surprises, and just when the assassin thought it couldn't get any more eventful, another one occurred.

White flames bursted from Paul's forarms, expanding up to the tip of his sword.

Instead of a direct slash, he swung his sword down for a flame slash to go for the assassin.

In an attempt to block Paul's attack, the assassin crossed his swords, but to no avail.

The energy slash broke his swords and severed his armor along with the cloth over it, reaching the flesh that lay under all of it.

Unlike any normal flames, this one did not burn its victim's flesh and passed right through it, severing the backside of the gear too and flying off into the darkness, where it disinguished.

What those flames have caused wasn't damage that could be seen on the physical appearance, but rather something entirely else. Something that practically petrified the assassin on the spot, not even letting him lose the grip of his broken swords.

Paul used this opening to execute another strike, this time severing the assassin's hands to fully incapacitate him.

The assassin himself was not able to react at all. Only until the greater pain of the sharp edge of a sword severing his actual flesh brought his mind back to reality.

Defeated and unarmed, the leader of the once mighty assassins is now defeated and kneeled to the ground, his pride damaged and never to recover.

Meanwhile, Paul took in cramps in his body for going beyond what he imagined was possible for him to achieve so late in his life. He wondered when his fighting habit had become so reckless but was oblivious that the swords had bounced off him toward the end of the fight.

He sheathed his sword back into its scabbard, put his hands on his knees, and took deep breaths.

'Damn it. Am I getting that old already? Well, it was the first time in a long time that I went into a serious fight like this. Ghislaine would definitely laugh her head off if she found out I'm losing stamina so fast.'

Being himself even in such drastic moments, Paul is unaware that he made progress even during the two rounds. Speed, endurance, reflexes, and technique have shown significant improvement that would make him equal to any King-class swordsman.

But all of that wasn't simply his late work on training. Another factor played a role in such drastic improvements to happen in the first place.

One such sign is noticeable in Paul himself, which he realized he had neglected as soon as he was about to examine the wound on his shoulder.

Touching it with his right hand, he felt that there was only the slightest bit of blood on it.

'It… it's healed? There isn't any wound around the area, either. I was sure I got hit by that hook earlier. Wait, all the other wounds are healed as well?'

As Paul contemplated was had happened to him, the armless assassin cackled to himself, slowly beginning to scream out in laughter and throwing his head back.

Such a reaction was almost too normal for Paul. There were many he had met before they came across the disparity of losing a limb with no hope to pay a good enough Healer should there have been one outside of Millishion.

And with a pale face and a grim smile, the armless man looked at Paul with the confidence of a victorious man.

"You're an idiot! No matter what, you've lost because of your ignorance. Your offspring made the wrong people at the wrong time mad."

In response to the mockery Paul has to hear, he rolls his eyes. Even one step behind death and the man wasn't admitting his own defeat.

What came after, though, is what made Paul regret the rash decision he had made a moment ago.

"Kehehehe… we… were eight…" the assassin said as the dizziness from blood loss kicked in.

Regret. That was the defying word that marked Paul's mind the moment he heard that number. He had defeated five in total, so the other three can only be headed in one direction. Towards where Therese and the others are headed.

Disregarding any stress his body had to deal with at the moment, he dashed off on the road, ever so ready to protect what he held so dear.

The accomplished feeling assassin on the other hand looked at Paul running off with a sense of amusement.

These moments of setting off a dark emotion on someone is what makes him go through life so enjoyably. A corrupted sadist to the last moment.

"LauGH aLL yoU WanT, SCum! ThiS Is tHe enD foR YOu."

A voice, distorted and echoed like an off sync choir, spoke to the startled deadman.

With the darkness and his overall worsening condition, he was unable to even look behind himself. He was, for the first time, scared of the dark himself like his previous targets.

The voice sounded like it spoke to him from both sides, but it spoke within him.

"YOur asHEs sHalL BE of GReaT usE tO My mISsioN! DiE knOWinG youR WorThLesS exiStANce ENded FOr a grEaTEr puRPose!"

The voice sounded all cold and murderous, speaking to the man like a cattle born for its meat alone.

What came after was the cruel punishment that awaited.

The area through which the power slash went through and didn't harm the man was now sparking into white flames, engulfing the entire body in an instant.

Agonizing pain courses went through him, unlike any endurance training he went through as a highly experienced assassin.

No poison, Magic, or tool could bring forth the kind of breath-stopping pain these white flames cause. For they are flames that incinerate the fabric that forms the person's spirit itself, turning his body into an empty shell of a once living being.

The flames of an incinerating soul.

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