Chapter 770: Strange

The sound of flowing water came from the darkness.

It sounded beside his ear. With every second it flowed, he grew colder.

"He did not have to die."

A hoarse, blurred, hard-to-identify voice slowly came from far away. Every tone was accompanied by the ominous sound of running water, making him tremble.

"If not for you speaking up to warn him."

The spider in his mind stretched and retracted its legs in vain, but could not drive his body even half an inch. It could only watch as the Power of Eradication was extinguished together with the fire of life.

Vanishing together with that flowing water.

"No, Daniel."

Click. Click. Complicated mechanical sounds rang one after another.

With a splash, a cold hand awkwardly pressed against his neck, as if trying to cut off that chilling stream of water.

Unfortunately, it was futile.

Water flowed from high to low, from above to below, impossible to cut off.

Just like sun, moon, stars, birth, aging, sickness, and death. Irreversible.

"Do not waste effort."

That hoarse, difficult-to-recognize voice sounded again, while the spider legs in his mind twitched madly and uselessly.

"Drink quickly. Do not waste his blood."

The stream flowed through cold fingers, as if triggering something. The hand at his neck began to tremble, its tendons repeatedly extending and contracting.

"Did Federico send you?"

A weak and trembling male voice came, disappointed and sorrowful.

"Or the person behind him?"

The hoarse voice gave a light hum.

"If I said the Bright God of Creation sent me, would you believe it? Drink the blood quickly. I do not carry burdens."

Suffocating silence lasted for a long while.

That hand finally gave up trying to stop the water and slowly left his neck.

The spider in his mind trembled one last time, then its legs finally drooped powerless.

"I told you." The hoarse and murderous voice grew farther and farther away, as if at the edge of the sky. "He is already dead."

Indeed, the flowing water gradually shrank, becoming so small it was almost soundless.

But for some reason, he felt:

The hand that had left him had already been washed warm and hot by the flowing stream.

"No," the weak male voice spoke faintly, holding a different opinion. "He is not dead yet."

That warmed hand covered his neck again.

It was no longer cold and no longer trembling.

"Then that is his bad luck," the hoarse voice tightened, making one shiver. "You really will not drink blood?"

In the darkness, that warm hand blocked the water that was continuously passing away.

Slowly, yet powerfully.

"He can still cry." The weak male voice ignored the urging.

"What?" Confusion showed in the hoarse voice.

That warm hand began to heat.

It gradually became scalding, blazing, then scorching.

"He can still cry. He can still shed tears, shed tears for others," the weak male voice gradually became firm, not allowing interruption. "Then he is not dead."

The next instant, a cluster of flame burst from that scorching palm.

"Wait," the hoarse, blurred voice finally showed a trace of fluctuation. "What are you doing..."

Within that flame, the brightest, hottest spark fell into the stagnant dead water.

Boom!

"Unlike you and me," the weak male voice mocked. "Long dead already."

In the deepest darkness, that spark ignited into blazing flame, burning upward in an almost impossible way, forcibly burning the water flow apart.

It burned through the neck.

Burned through the heart.

Burned into the brain.

Finally, it burned onto that cold, stiff, merciless spider.

"No, Daniel."

"Aaaaaah! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! It hurts like hell!"

In the guest barracks of Emerald Palace, Danny Doyle woke from his muddled dream. Seeing the scene before him, he could not help crying out in grief:

"Stowe... why are you drawing blood again? Did you not just draw some? I am seriously wounded!"

"Do not move... if you move, the needle will slip... Do not worry, this is the last bottle!"

The logistics chief of the Star Lake Guard, Deward Stowe, firmly held down D.D.'s right hand. With the help of Piloga and Kusta, he pressed the blood-drawing needle connected to a soft tube into D.D.'s vein and watched joyfully as the reagent bottle on the other end gradually filled with red.

"For experiments... ah, no, tests... no, not that either... for medical use! Just one bottle. A small bottle. A tiny little bottle!"

And so, inside the barracks, a group of people looked on with strange expressions as Doyle was pressed down on the bed by several large men, completely at their mercy.

D.D.'s resistance failed. He could only look to his colleagues for help, and then he heard quite a few people whispering among themselves.

"I heard from a friend of a friend that besides curing illness and extending life, vampire source blood can also improve virility?"

"Ugh. Vulgar, obscene, disgusting... So, uh, can it really improve virility?"

"Incidentally, I have a friend who asked me to ask: how long can source blood stay in a human body?"

"If we draw D.D.'s blood and drink it now, maybe... forget it, pretend I did not ask."

"Hey, if D.D. dies while the effect is active and becomes a vampire, would we not have source blood to drink forever?"

D.D. could hardly believe it.

"Holy shit, you people..."

"You would have to wait until he grows into a Supreme-class vampire before he can condense source blood..."

"How long would that take? Ten or twenty years is not impossible to wait..."

"Ten or twenty years would be for a genius. But look at D.D. From head to toe, which part of him looks like a genius?"

D.D. was full of grief and indignation.

"Hey, you bastards..."

"Can we artificially speed up the process? Like gathering several vampires together, putting them in a pot to steam, concentrating and refining source blood..."

"Wow, Neshy, you really are a genius. Why did people before never think of this?"

"Is it too late to stuff D.D. in and steam him now?"

"So D.D., how exactly did you drink the source blood? Did you grab his neck and gnaw?"

Hearing this, D.D., who had been gnashing his teeth, suddenly trembled.

How...

Had he obtained the source blood?

"He is not dead yet... He can still cry, still shed tears, shed tears for others... then he is not dead."

On the other side of the barracks, Wya Caso was questioning Glover and Ralf, making notes in his notebook from time to time.

"As I said, when D.D. first came back, his mind was unclear. There were no wounds on his body, but he kept running a high fever and sometimes vomited," Glover recalled as he spoke. "While half-asleep, he kept muttering nonsense like 'my fault' and 'big spider.' He even convulsed all over. For a while, we had to tie him up."

"His fault? What fault? And what is the spider?" Wya's pen paused.

Ralf shook his head and signed:

"No idea. But if you ask me, it was probably another toy. You know, like the little cloth bear."

Hearing this, Wya sank into thought.

"But his fever soon broke, and his mind recovered. Then he shouted that he was hungry, scaring us into thinking he wanted to drink blood... Fortunately, we later discovered he was truly hungry. He ate three people's worth of food by himself, drank several large cups of water, then fell asleep. In between, Chief Stowe woke him up with needles several times. As for now..."

Glover, wearing a complex expression, turned toward D.D., who was surrounded by a large crowd.

"...and then I pretended to stay calm, reached back with one hand! What seemed an ordinary sword was actually a heaven-shocking strike..."

Doyle had finally finished having blood drawn and escaped the restraint of the large men. This also allowed him to, once again, wave his hands and feet with vivid expression as he narrated his adventurous epic.

"...Seeing my heaven-shocking sword, that cowardly bandit Reverse Blade was immediately shocked. Not daring to meet me head-on, he fled into the darkness, and then I..."

"And then you died."

Paul, leaning against the wall with a book in hand, said softly.

D.D. shook all over. His voice stopped abruptly, as if someone had pinched his neck.

"I, I, I..."

He made clucking sounds almost like a hen, full of grievance.

"Am I not alive? I am telling you, source blood or no source blood, I survived because I avoided the vital point! If that assassin's skill had been just a little better, just a little, hey, cut here, see? If he had cut straight, sliced off my head skin and bone together..."

"I remember there is a test in the Western Wasteland," Paul said, not turning a page, but changing the hand that held the book. "Used to identify vampires."

"What?" D.D. instantly became alert.

"Cut off the head and see whether the person can still speak. If he can, then he is undoubtedly a vampire."

"What?" Everyone was startled together.

"No, wait, you call that a test?"

"Historically, one Western Wasteland noble used this method to clear his younger brother of suspicion of being a vampire."

"And incidentally cleared away his brother too?"

"Speaking of which, Paul, why do you read..."

"The Strategies of a Wise Ruler."

"No, I just want to ask, why is your posture while reading so awkward? Is standing not tiring?"

"...Not tiring."

"Where did that rustic bow of yours go? The one in the love triangle who was treated as the honest man... what was it called again?"

"...Rustic... huff, huff... Reverse Lion is not an honest man. He merely... merely holds fame and profit lightly, hides his name, and lets others misunderstand him as having a poor background... His true identity is so noble that it is far beyond what the 'Tidebreaker Knight' Lycos can compare with... That is why later, the knights of Heroic Soul Castle came to him, openly formed ranks, solemn and majestic, and greeted the young master back to the castle in unison. A famous scene..."

"Excellent!"

Logistics Officer Stowe's cheer interrupted Paul's calm yet deeply aggrieved clarification.

"The sunlight test, temperature sensitivity test, manifestation test, material affinity test, even the sacred test insisted on by the Sunset Temple and the leech test recommended by Councilor Yannik all passed..."

Logistics Officer Stowe dripped a drop of liquid into the reagent bottle and shook it under the sunlight.

"Mm... no serious rejection reaction, and no abnormal changes in organ tissue. Congratulations, D.D. One day has passed since the source blood took effect. It seems you are unlikely to become a vampire."

The surrounding Star Lake Guards broke into whispers, some relieved, some regretful.

"I told you!"

D.D., lying on the bed, perked up and waved his fist with effort, throwing the fragmented memories from his nightmare to the back of his mind.

"To hell with source blood. I will not become a vampire! I will not!"

"In fact, your recent open wounds have all healed," Stowe said, putting down the blood bottle and putting away the magnifying glass, his face full of regret. "Apart from external scars, nothing remains. You are even healthier than at any time since birth. If you pay attention to health, perhaps you might even live to a hundred."

"What?" Neshy cried in surprise.

The surrounding Star Lake Guards let out a wave of hisses that were hard to tell as envy or disappointment.

"Wh... what?"

D.D. was the one truly startled. Contrary to usual, he did not yell in joy or cheer. Instead, he dazedly and fearfully touched his neck.

"I... I..."

At that moment, a familiar voice sounded, drilling into the crowd.

"Why did he save you?"

As soon as these words came out, everyone present in the guard fell quiet.

As if someone had switched off the room's "cheerful" setting.

Wya parted the crowd and approached D.D.'s bedside, his attitude serious.

"D.D., why did Lausanne the Second save you? Even if it required spending source blood? Even sacrificing his life?"

Wya held up his notebook.

"He was a killer, was he not?"

For an instant, the humor and ease on D.D.'s face vanished.

Logistics Officer Stowe was unhurriedly putting away the logistics wing's tools, mainly the dozen or so tubes of precious D.D. blood. Hearing this, he glanced at Patterson the Gardener, whose expression had turned dark. The two then looked toward Ghost Hugo, seated in the corner.

"I... he..."

D.D. instinctively touched his neck, touching that terrifying fatal scar, hesitant and lost.

"I do not... I only... I do not know..."

Wya stared at D.D., wanting to find the answer in his eyes.

"According to the intelligence, you and he once had the same teacher. Or using the traditional expression, served the same knight? Is it related to that?"

D.D. held his head, showing pain.

"He... he truly might have been old Huaqin's student, attendant, or disciple... But I never knew him, not even his real name... I do not..."

Wya took a step forward, serious.

"D.D., a Supreme-class assassin has entered Jade City. This is no small matter. On His Highness the Prince's side... I need you to recall clearly. Do you remember what happened after your throat was cut..."

D.D. trembled violently.

"I... I do not know... do not remember... blood... I only remember blood..."

Doyle shrank back, his face terrified.

But Wya held up notes so scribbled only he could understand them and pressed on relentlessly.

"Then have you ever met any other attendants or students of Master Huaqin..."

Hm?

Wya suddenly felt his shoulder tighten. He turned and saw Glover placing a hand on his shoulder and shaking his head.

"But..."

Wya looked at D.D.'s trembling appearance, then at his own notes, then at the unbearable expressions of those around them, wanting several times to speak but stopping.

"Oh, right. That Lausanne the Second."

At this moment, Komuto behind the crowd suddenly coughed and spoke unnaturally.

"He, he really died?"

Everyone looked at one another.

"Of course. Three bottles of Sunset holy water were poured over the corpse. It was covered in silver powder and exposed to the sun for a full day. Dead beyond any further death, and it does not look like he can resurrect," said Patterson, the punishment officer nicknamed Gardener, with a light snort by the window. "Wait, Old Kom, I remember you were the one who did that job, right?"

Komuto was startled, laughed awkwardly, and patted his forehead.

"Oh, right. I... I was in charge of sprinkling the silver powder... Now I remember. Look at my memory..."

The Gardener gave an mm.

"The head ordered the corpse nailed into a specially made silver-plated box, sealed with blessed ritual implements, and prepared to bring it back to the royal capital. The official statement is that we succeeded in vengeance, and everyone in the guard contributed. Of course, the final one to act was D.D., since he was gravely injured for it."

D.D. was startled and came back to himself.

"Me? Acted? Vengeance? What vengeance?"

"Honor vengeance, of course. He held a blood debt for one of our old brothers in the guard," the Gardener summarized briefly. He looked again at D.D. lying on the bed. "Mm. No longer."

Everyone nodded in understanding, but there was no relief from a great revenge achieved, only the melancholy of a story ending.

D.D. simply froze completely and did not come back for a long while.

"Too easy for him," old Stowe sighed. "If he had fallen into the punishment wing, into the hands of the Gardener's abnormal colleagues, together with the Secret Intelligence Department, they could have interrogated him in every possible way. He probably would not have died for a hundred years."

The Gardener snorted softly, neither confirming nor denying.

"The problem is, Lausanne the Second was key to Jade City's serial murders and the arbitration of the Covendier family's old case," Paul sighed and turned a page. "Now the murderer is gone, and so is the evidence. We have lost our political leverage. That painstaking hunt at North Gate Bridge was essentially for nothing."

Everyone fell silent, their emotions different.

"And there is the assassination in the temple, plus Miss Hilley returning to the palace equally gravely injured," Wya frowned. "If specific details leak, people will again question whether His Highness Thales can maintain order. Jade City had finally settled somewhat..."

Oskerson, born on the South Bank, nodded.

"The Covendier brothers and their supporters and sympathizers are not easy people. If they find out, they may take the chance to counterattack. Then His Highness..."

"The key is that new assassin, Reverse Blade. I heard he has some connection to the Black Street Brotherhood..."

"Was Emerald Palace not mixed up with the Blood Bottle Gang? How did the Brotherhood get involved now?"

"Hmph. Once the newly recruited standing army from the royal capital is trained up, sooner or later we will sweep all this trash away at once..."

"That killer, Lausanne the Second," D.D., silent for a long time, could not help speaking from the bed. "Did he really have a grudge against us, against the Royal Guards? Did he really kill one of our people?"

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Just, after all these days, I always felt that killer, in truth, he was not..." Doyle hesitated. "I mean..."

"D.D..." Komuto quietly reminded him.

"I understand," Morgan, who had not spoken for a long time, suddenly said. "He was not that bad."

"Now you understand again?" Kusta frowned.

"The night of the North Gate Bridge hunt, the district I was watching..." Morgan ignored him and spoke to himself. "There was a group of mercenaries who were terrified after being killed through. They did not dare chase him anymore... They turned back and wanted to take advantage of the chaos to rob nearby homes... then..."

Morgan snorted coldly, drank a mouthful of mate tea, and rubbed his saber.

"Then Lausanne the Second, who had already left, suddenly turned back for no reason and dealt with that group of mercenaries."

Everyone's expressions shifted slightly.

"He did not have to do that," D.D. said absently.

"Right." Paul still held The Strategies of a Wise Ruler, but unexpectedly agreed with D.D. "He did not have to do something unnecessary."

"What kind of killer would do such a thing?" Wya pondered.

"The worst and least professional kind," the Gardener suddenly said. "When a killer begins killing not for money, but for something else... there will be big trouble."

No one spoke.

"You are all here?"

A familiar and lazy voice came from outside the door. Everyone in the barracks froze, then stood solemnly.

"Head!"

"Chief!"

"Sir!"

"Tor... Lord Mallos!"

Amid inconsistent forms of address, Mallos entered the barracks. He patted everyone on the shoulder before coming to D.D., whose expression was dazed.

"I heard from Toledo that there is nothing much wrong with D.D.?"

Stowe put away his toolbox.

"Probably."

The Gardener frowned at this.

"Good. Then D.D., return to post tomorrow morning..."

Mallos casually pointed at the patient on the bed.

"After all, a mere Supreme-class assassin pierced through our defense net, disrupted almost every deployment, and has left me under great pressure now, with no time to rest."

A mere Supreme-class...

A mere?

Someone wanted to argue, but no one dared make a sound.

The Watchman turned toward everyone.

"What do you say?"

As soon as these words came out, everyone's expression changed.

The next second, the Star Lake Guards turned their heads one after another, in twos and threes. Everyone instantly found their own work and scattered left and right.

"All right, we just finished meeting and discussing our defensive gaps..."

"Counting the time, it is my turn to stand guard beside His Highness Thales..."

"The patrol brothers should be returning soon, right? Just in case, I will go welcome the shift early..."

"The logistics wing supplies will soon be replenished..."

"I am going to fix my leg..."

"Uh, well, we just made a defense plan and response plan against Reverse Blade..."

"Right, right, right. I have always felt Ancestor Rock is a security gap..."

"I can work overtime tonight! Chief, please do not worry. Use me to your heart's content..."

Amid everyone's footsteps, Mallos suddenly spoke:

"By the way, taking source blood does not improve virility!"

He raised his head and smiled.

"It also carries the risk of flesh and blood collapse."

Everyone froze, and the whispers stopped.

"How does he know?" Neshy in the crowd whispered in confusion. "Could it be that he..."

"What?"

Hearing this, the Gardener abruptly turned back, his gaze dark.

"Kid, you want to know too?"

No further reminder from this punishment wing chief with the authority to wield the whip was needed. Including Neshy, who was dragged away by the ear by Komuto, most of the Star Lake Guards broke into a jog and vanished through the doorway, each scrambling ahead of the others. Kusta did not forget to leave the peeled apple at D.D.'s bedside.

"Hmph, Mallos. You were the one who instructed Toledo to speak softly and let these bastards come visit the sick, weren't you?" Deputy Punishment Officer Patterson watched everyone leave, came before Mallos, and shook his head disdainfully.

"Oh, was I?" The Watchman seemed to wake from a dream and slapped his forehead.

"Still using this trick at a time like this? It is a waste of time and manpower," the Gardener said with an ugly expression. "We are under enormous pressure right now. If Reverse Blade comes again, this pile of rotten fish and shrimp may not necessarily hold."

Mm. With only rotten fish and shrimp, perhaps they truly could not.

Mallos nodded and smiled, but the one who answered was Stowe.

"Gardener is right. We are under great pressure," old Stowe sighed. "Our defense was silently pierced clean through. We lost the key captive we had finally caught, nearly failed to protect Miss Covendier, and even the heir of Cold Castle almost died below."

Most disastrous of all, the consequences of all these matters added together might drag down the entire arrangement the prince had finally put in order.

The several officers present all wore grave expressions.

"So D.D. being safe and sound, surviving under a Supreme-class assassin, is the only good news we have right now."

Stowe changed direction and released a smile.

"And we need a little uplifting news, or a relaxed and happy atmosphere, to relieve pressure and raise low morale. Logistics work is also very important, you know."

The Gardener looked at Stowe, then at Mallos, and even glanced at Standard Officer Hugo behind him, who looked utterly unconcerned. He frowned, but in the end said nothing.

"As for you, D.D." Mallos came to D.D.'s bedside and looked at his vacant expression. "Rest properly. Return to post tomorrow morning."

But D.D. only blankly covered the scar on his neck, with no reaction at all.

Mallos did not take offense. He only patted his shoulder and turned to leave.

"Doyle is not suited for field duty right now. There are still questions about exactly how this fellow survived."

The Gardener came behind Mallos and said in a low voice:

"And Glover and that mute, including the girl from the Arunde family, are also not suited, if you understand what I mean."

Mallos's expression moved.

He nodded and patted his own injured arm, hanging before his chest and wrapped in thick bandages.

"I am not suited for duty either. My injury has not healed, and I cannot even hold a weapon, but here I am."

The Watchman said lightly:

"And a Supreme-class assassin... I mean, surely I cannot be the one to go up and fight fifty-fifty with the enemy every time we meet a strong opponent?"

Patterson's eyes chilled.

"Did you not bring that on yourself?"

"Then next time, you people go?" Mallos raised an eyebrow.

Logistics Officer Stowe raised both hands, exaggeratedly stepping back as if the matter were very serious.

"This again..."

The Gardener snorted disdainfully and turned to seek support.

"Hugo... what does the standard wing say..."

But Patterson immediately froze. Standard Officer Hugo, who should have been behind him, had already vanished.

Only Stowe showed white teeth and smiled at him.

"Every time we need him... damned ghost."

The Gardener muttered.

"It seems the standard wing has no objection," Mallos sighed. "Then what does the punishment wing say?"

The Gardener glanced at Mallos, then at the still-dazed D.D. on the other side.

"Forget it. If you say it is fine, then it is fine."

Mallos smiled.

"Only do not forget," Patterson said as if casually, "how the last batch of Royal Guards, our predecessors, ended up."

In that instant, the three officers present fell silent.

"Grey," several seconds later, the Watchman recovered his original smile. "Thank you."

He looked seriously at the Gardener.

"Believe me. Now, we have already encountered Reverse Blade once. Referring to Lausanne the Second, the intelligence has been collected completely, and the contingency plan is ready."

"Next time, if she dares come at us again," Mallos said firmly, "it will be the last time."

Patterson was silent for several seconds.

"The last time..." the Gardener said faintly. "Why does that sound so unlucky coming from you?"

Mallos's smile stiffened.

Beside him, Stowe raised an eyebrow.

But the Gardener made no further explanation. He only snorted softly and turned to leave.

"You know, this is an old problem of his," Stowe followed the Gardener, turning back with an awkward smile. "He does not know how to speak."

If he knew how to behave...

Would he not have gone home long ago to inherit his title?

And it was precisely because he did not know how to behave...

That His Majesty could trust him enough to promote him as deputy punishment officer.

Mallos watched the two leave, but at that moment, a weak voice sounded behind him.

"Head."

Mallos turned back and saw D.D. lying on the bed, his eyes empty.

"Tell me, in that dungeon, did I really... really die once?"

Die.

Died once...

Mallos's gaze moved slightly as he thought of the dying message Lausanne the Second had written in blood on the wall.

"Within one day, do not let him die again."

"It does not look that way."

Mallos said in a low voice:

"But yes, someone else died in your place."

D.D.'s eyes changed.

Someone else.

"I cannot understand."

Doyle's mood was low, and his breathing slowly quickened.

"Why... he did not have to do that. I did not even know him at all... Even if he did it, I would not... Old Huaqin has been dead for so long... Why sacrifice your life for a complete stranger... why..."

D.D. buried his face in his hands and trembled slightly.

"Danny Doyle."

D.D. raised his head blankly.

The Watchman had stopped at the doorway, his back to him, expression unclear.

"Why do you breathe?"

Breathe?

D.D. froze.

"What? Breathe? Why?"

Mallos turned back, his eyes sharp, looking deeply at the stunned D.D.

"Exactly," Mallos said softly. "Just like that."

Exactly?

What exactly?

What did breathing have to do with this?

Doyle, stunned and confused, was about to ask more, but Mallos had already disappeared outside the door.

Only D.D. remained, staring blankly at the doorway.

Until Ralf limped before him and threw him something.

"What... oh, my little bear. Thank you."

Doyle instinctively caught the little cloth bear stained red by blood and immediately froze.

"The prince gave it to you. Do not lose it again," Ralf signed casually.

"I... I thought it had fallen in the tunnel... thought I could not get it back..." D.D. absent-mindedly rubbed the little cloth bear.

Hearing the word "tunnel," Ralf's face darkened, and his hands kept moving:

"Tunnel... Big guy and I did not watch the door... sorry."

"Could not get it back..." D.D. looked dazed and did not raise his head.

Ralf was displeased, but looking at the other party's absent-minded appearance, he shook his head.

"Forget it. Rest."

The Wind Wraith shook his head self-mockingly and turned to leave.

"Mute. Tell me, why did he do that?"

Ralf's steps paused.

"Can a knight who cries and sheds tears really be stronger than a knight who..."

D.D. closed his eyes, as if returning to that dungeon and facing that shackled, fallen, desolate killer.

"A knight who goes forward without turning back?"

What?

Ralf paused for quite a while, frowning again and again, making several confused signs:

"Cry? Knight? What?"

But D.D. was immersed in his own world.

"I also think it is ridiculous, utter nonsense." Doyle lowered his head, touched the scar at his neck, played with the little bear in his hand, and laughed while trembling. "Crying is obviously shameful. It is useless... and crying for others... cry, cry, cry. How could crying possibly be powerful?"

This young master...

Could he have been made stupid by that assassin's slash?

Ralf was baffled. He shook his head impatiently and left. Before going, he did not forget to sign with a middle finger:

"Idiot."

"Yes. From ancient times to the present, only knights as firm as iron, who never waver and use bloodshed in place of tears, deserve to be called powerful, right?"

In the empty barracks, D.D. trembled, burying his smile and his eyes together in the bloodstained little cloth bear's embrace, and choked:

"Idiot?"

-----

"Your Highness, I believe this whole matter is strange from beginning to end."

Not long after leaving the guard barracks, Wya stood at the top of Jade City, on the broad open-air terrace of Emerald Palace, holding his notebook and reporting to His Highness the Prince with deep concern.

"I have summarized three points..."

Strange.

Of course it was strange.

Thales had his back to Wya, supporting himself on the railing and looking out at the lively cityscape spread below, his emotions complex.

He had already reached an agreement with the two Covendiers. Jade City's balance had returned to equilibrium. Yet things had gone wrong at this exact point.

What part of that was not strange?

"Tell me what you discovered."

Thales spoke slowly. The hoarseness and exhaustion of his voice surprised even himself.

"Yes. First is Reverse Blade's style of action."

Wya looked worriedly at the prince and continued:

"Without question, he... forgive me, she is a true Supreme-class assassin. Her skill is outstanding, and she could slip into the dungeon without sound or trace. If not for one-in-ten-thousand luck, Guard Officer Doyle would likely have lost his life."

Yes. One-in-ten-thousand luck.

Thales's expression did not change, but he could not help recalling that scene in the dungeon, D.D. lying motionless in a pool of blood.

Think on the bright side. At least he sacrificed himself in a real fight on a battlefield.

The voice in his heart mocked:

Not at a banquet where currents twisted like clouds and waves, while you were powerless to do anything.

This was not the first time, and certainly would not be the last.

But you, Thales, how many more times will it take before you understand the truth?

"...and according to Lady Arunde's account, she also nearly died under the opponent's blade. This shows that Reverse Blade strikes ruthlessly and without mercy."

Wya's report pulled Thales back to reality.

"Yet she happened to show mercy to Zombie and Mute, as well as Zornived and Franzuk guarding the perimeter. She merely knocked them unconscious. Clearly, cutting their throats would have been easy and would also have prevented them from waking midway."

Thales, who had been busy for a day and sleepless for a night, forced himself to focus and raised his head.

"You mean, she encountered six of our people along the way, showed mercy to four of them, but tried to finish off the other two? D.D. and Mira?"

What, was D.D. especially annoying, or did Miranda look too dangerous?

Wya nodded.

"Yes. This is contradictory and difficult to understand. So while their memories were still fresh, I repeatedly questioned all parties involved through the night and barely reconstructed the situation at the time, confirming one point."

While. Through the night. Repeatedly. All.

Hearing these words, Thales could not help looking at Wya's dark circles.

All right. His Highness the Prince was not the only one mentally and physically exhausted.

In this world, there were still many people who wanted to turn back the tide.

Thales felt somewhat comforted.

Right, where had Mallos gone? At such a high-pressure moment, he had disappeared again early this morning?

"Vanguard Officer Glover, Ralf, Vanguard Officer Zornived, and Guard Officer Franzuk were completely unaware when they were attacked. Forget facing Reverse Blade, they never even saw her shadow. They only learned they had been knocked down after waking."

Wya continued:

"But Guard Officer Doyle discovered Reverse Blade's trace in advance and defended against the first strike."

"D.D.?"

Thales frowned.

"Oh, do not misunderstand. I am very glad he survived. But what I doubt is this: does D.D. really have that ability?"

Wya nodded.

"I had the same doubt, so I confirmed it again just now. To be precise, Doyle passively discovered Reverse Blade under Lausanne the Second's warning and nearly instinctively withstood the first strike. Then..."

"Then he died," Thales supplied.

Mm. Better not say that in front of D.D. It would hurt him a bit too much.

"Yes... yes."

Wya was somewhat awkward. He instinctively looked left and right. Fortunately, the guards were all at a distance where they could see them but not hear them.

"As for Lady Arunde, she discovered something wrong early on and even, relying on experience and instinct, forced Reverse Blade out of concealment for a time, making her engage head-on. That was why she held on until Your Highness and Sir Cassian came to reinforce her."

Thales pondered for a while and narrowed his eyes.

"You mean Reverse Blade's whereabouts were discovered by D.D. and Mira, and she was obstructed, so she struck to kill," Thales speculated. "But toward those who had not discovered her, and therefore could not obstruct her, she showed mercy?"

That did fit Boss's personality.

But...

Wya nodded.

"Correct. Therefore, I boldly speculate: if Doyle and Arunde had not discovered Reverse Blade's whereabouts..."

Thales continued for him:

"Then neither of them would have had trouble. At most, they would have been knocked down and slept for a while?"

"Yes. Then Reverse Blade could have come and gone without a trace, killing no one," Wya said with certainty.

Killing no one.

Coming and going without a trace.

Thales fell into thought.

"The question is why?"

Wya paused for a second and explained further:

"Killing no one is of course good from our perspective, but from an assassin's perspective, it is unwise. First, knocking someone unconscious is harder than killing them. Showing mercy consumes more energy than striking to kill. Second, what if the sentry who was knocked unconscious wakes halfway and sounds the alarm?"

Thales chewed over his words and slowly nodded.

"Yes. Surely it was not for perfect stealth? For a trophy and achievement of killing no one?"

Wya was somewhat baffled, but he had long grown used to the prince occasionally blurting out self-created terms.

"Judging from D.D. having his throat sealed in one stroke and Arunde's grave chest and abdomen wound, I boldly assume this Reverse Blade is inherently ruthless, decisive in killing, and long accustomed to it. If arranged properly, she could easily kill all six of the above, even more, one after another."

Thales nodded.

If not so, she would not deserve the name Supreme-class assassin.

"Yet she did not do this. My guess is that her requirements for infiltrating the tunnel this time were to restrain herself in the process and, unless necessary, avoid killing and wounding."

"Unless necessary, avoid killing and wounding... Is she really going for a trophy..." Thales muttered.

Wya said gravely:

"To be precise, this may not have been her requirement, but the requirement of the employer behind her."

Thales's eyes moved.

Wya took a deep breath.

"If my assumption is correct... then I guess no matter who the mastermind behind this is, they must be very wary of offending Your Highness. Unless absolutely necessary, they do not want to offend you and form a difficult-to-resolve blood feud with us, with Star Lake Castle." Wya hesitated. "Or perhaps their identity and position make it inconvenient for them to offend you."

Thales did not move. His expression did not change.

The breeze passed over the terrace. Its force was not strong, yet at the height of the palace roof and mountain peak, it howled sharply, piercing and chilling.

"That leads to the question," Thales said softly, as if speaking to himself.

"Yes."

Wya looked worriedly at the prince and gathered the courage to speak.

"In this Jade City battle that has visibly reached life-and-death and suffered countless losses... what kind of person, what kind of special person, would find it inconvenient to harm the prince and your subordinates?"

Thales did not speak.

"And so I thought again of earlier in the temple, when Duke Zayen requested that you personally go find his sister." Wya paused, hesitant. "He said... he said only if you yourself appeared in person would the opponent have reservations."

Thales remained silent.

"So I was thinking. If only this, only the personal appearance of a country's prince, can make them restrain themselves, then their identity, their position, the things they can do..."

Looking at the completely unresponsive Thales, Wya clenched his teeth.

"Your Highness, the raven cage is already prepared. If it is inconvenient for you, I can write a letter back to the royal capital under the name of asking after my father, leaving a hidden mark, and ask him, ask him to go, to..."

At that moment, Thales suddenly raised his hand and stopped Wya's words.

"That is enough, Wya."

The prince's words were intimate, his attitude gentle.

So gentle that Wya felt cold.

"Your Highness, perhaps at this time we should..."

Wya hardened himself and wanted to continue, but Thales interrupted him again.

"You said just now that you found three strange points in this matter," Thales said evenly, as if he had not heard Wya's implication at all. "What is the second?"

Facing the Second Prince's calm, rippleless reaction, Wya was somewhat surprised. But he quickly lowered his head, collected his emotions, and opened his notebook.

"Yes. Yes, forgive me... right. The second strange point, or rather, point of suspicion."

Wya said in a low voice:

"Why did the assassin, Reverse Blade, appear at this time? What exactly did she come to do?"