Chapter 26: Third Episode: Chapter 8 (1/2)

Chapter 26: Third Episode: Chapter 8

Translator: EndlessFantasy TranslationEditor: EndlessFantasy Translation

Oscar faced the only door in the room. This was the best position that he had won over in the fierce fight a moment ago. Two throwing knives flew towards the wide-open door simultaneously. One of the assassins met the oncoming throwing knife when he burst into the room. His reactions were undeniably that of a killer, but after he struck down one of the throwing knives with his sword, the second throwing knife was already coming right at his face.

The force of the throwing knife lifted the unlucky assassin into a backward somersault. When the other assassin passed his own comrade and barged into the room, he suddenly realized that he had already lost sight of the target.

The assassin turned around and glanced at his fallen comrade on the ground. There was a throwing knife stuck in between the guy's eyebrows. Even the handle of the throwing knife was embedded as well. The assassin grasped the sword in his hand tightly. He vigilantly surveyed his surroundings. This fellow was a little self-conscious now. From the strength and precision at which he threw the throwing knife, the youngster was indeed a professional, to be exact; he should be a killer such as himself. In the Westland, there was no warrior who would carry a throwing knife of such standard and it was more unlikely for a knight to do so. So the only answer was, this youngster was also a killer.

The assassin was a little nervous. His rapier had already pierced through every position that could possibly hide a person in the room, but the youngster was not in any of them.

The scenario was somewhat ridiculous. The killer had now become the prey. The assassin tried to lighten his footsteps. He carefully approached the other door in the room. This door should lead into the room next door.

The assassin gently turned the knob of the door. That guy must be inside.

The door was violently kicked open. The assassin fell on the ground and flipped into the room, but he was once again disappointed. The furnishings of this room were very simple, but there was absolutely not even a single silhouette inside. However, just as the assassin breathed a little sigh of relief, a noose unexpectedly dangled silently down from the ceiling.

This assassin was undoubtedly also a qualified killer. The countless life and death ordeals he had been through allowed him to accurately sense that the real danger was approaching from behind. The assassin swiftly turned around. However, just when the assassin was turning around, his eyes were filled with utter despair.

The noose was suddenly around the assassin's neck. Even though the assassin immediately grabbed the noose, but the owner of the noose evidently did not allow him the opportunity to live. The assassin's body was suspended upwards. He flailed in midair for not more than three seconds. Following the gruesome sound of a crunch from the neck, the assassin finally relaxed. His rapier slid out from his hand, and a helpless groan reverberated from the marble floor below him.

Oscar had stationed himself on the ceiling, close to the entrance using his two legs and a hand. ”Two!” The youngster jumped down onto the ground. A heavy body subsequently fell after him. Oscar adjusted his breathing. It was obvious that the series of killings was not effortless.

The youngster picked up the rapier the assassin left behind. Oscar carefully examined the vein lines of the rapier closely. Aside from knowing that this was a good blade, he could not find any clues. Oscar shook his head. His actions were undoubtedly unnecessary. No matter how one looked at it, these people were some extremely professional assassins. There was absolutely nothing of value that could be obtained from them, but Oscar really could not think of anyone who would so badly want him dead.

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Those who could use a crossbow weighing 4.2kg, if not an expert archer, would be a really strong man. As the Inferno Assassination group's sniper, Bonnard could proudly claim that his attack had never failed; but it was obvious that this record was already something of the past.

Just a moment ago, the arrow that he thought would clinch his success was to his surprise, deflected by that guy's dagger. Bonnard knew that there was no mending the task this time. His opponent's bodyguard was obviously not a mere disgraced country knight. This was because there was no explanation for a country knight to be able to deflect his powerful arrow.

Bonnard suddenly felt a little silly. Why would a Prince use a disgraced country knight to serve as his bodyguard? Thinking about this, the leader of the assassins finally admitted that he had made a serious mistake. He should not have launched his attack before he had even made a proper judgment of the target's capabilities. However, the situation was not that dire yet, perhaps that little prince had already been taken care of by his subordinates.

At that moment, Bonnard was lying in wait with two other assassins of the group in a huge room. This room was located in the middle section of the palace's second floor. Moreover, Bonnard had opened the doors of the huge room widely. He knew that, that bodyguard would definitely tag along behind. In that case, there was no reason that his crossbow was to fail again.

***************

Snowstorm did not know what the leader of the Assassin's group was thinking. He was at that moment at the entrance of the room, his body was pressed up against the wall. Paul's face still had that annoying smile. He was not that foolish. He had met many snipers who used a crossbow. Although that previous guy indeed possessed the ability to frighten others, but Paul felt, it was merely to frighten people.

The King of Assassins looked at the door of the room that was just within his reach. There was no need for him whatsoever, to take the risk and charge in. Moreover, he did not know what the layout was like inside. However, it seemed like the people inside were reluctant to leave. In that case, there were several methods for entering a room and Paul believed that the most reasonable one was to knock.

***************

Being a horseman, the former Persian general, the highest order of the machete samurai, Mr. Wozakad Mohamed was undeniably very competent. The four beast-like Raytheon stallions he handled were already cleaned to splendor. When he brought them to appear in the capital's main street, no matter whoever it was, they would do the courtesy of fixing their attention on these perfect ”ferocious beasts”. During those times, Wozakad would be very proud. He already treated these four little fellows as his own sons and daughters.

His Imperial Highness the Prince's carriage stopped on the sidewalk of the public square in front of Kenshin Palace. At this moment, Wozakad was looking at this majestic, solemn palace, lost in thought. Through the reflection of the sunlight, he saw shadows flit by inside one of the palace's windows. The experienced and knowledgeable general was naturally clear what those shadows signified.

The horseman gave off a sigh. He initially hoped that he could remain silent, but those guys seemed to have ignored his presence. Until today, no one was willing to greet him. Wozakad Mohammed mounted his seat on the carriage. Inside a secret compartment just beneath his seat, there was an exceptionally sharp machete. This was a gift given to him by the little prince's father after he was released from prison.

Wozakad Mohamed took out the machete, raised the handle of the blade up high and swiftly slashed an arc in the air. The Persian general usually used this gesture to announce to the gods in the people's hearts – the war was about to begin.

***************

Snowstorm hid at the entrance of the room. He cautiously extended his hand and lightly knocked the door twice. ”Is anyone in?”

Bonnard, the head of the assassins suddenly felt a shred of frustration, should he even answer?

”Hey! If there's no one, I'm leaving.” Snowstorm knocked the door another time to get someone's attention.

At that moment, Bonnard felt very uneasy. To him, it was simply a kind of contempt. So he subconsciously made a response. The arrow left the bowstring. His target was the only exposed hand of the King of Assassins.

During the split second as the bowstring vibrated, Snowstorm had already determined the position of the guy that was using the sniper bow. It did not seem as if Paul made any movement with his hand, but when the King of Assassins gently flipped his wrist, a delicate, sharp arrow that was glinting in the cold light was within his grasp.

When Bonnard launched his attack, the other two assassins in the room had already started moving towards the door. When they looked in astonishment at the hand holding the arrow, it was already too late.

Being the most excellent killer in the Westland, aside from 13, Snowstorm knew practically all the methods of using all weapons. With regards to the sniper crossbow, Snowstorm knew that the most skilled archer could reload his arrow within half a second. And just a moment ago, when Snowstorm caught the sharp arrow, half a second had already passed.

As a matter of fact, everything happened too quickly. You practically could not find the words to describe the swift movements of the King of Assassins. The arrow was in his hand, and his person was already inside the room.

It was almost as Snowstorm expected; there were two men in hiding behind the doors. The phantom-like apparition brought on a sense of foreboding when the opponents were still in a startled state. Snowstorm pierced the arrow sent by the killer into the throat of his comrade. A rain of blood spurted out from the wound.

One second! The second sharp arrow arrived on schedule, and it transmitted an angry breath. At that moment, Snowstorm's body was already completely exposed within the killer's sight. The arrow that was sure to kill arrived before his eyes.

Snowstorm let off a muffled sigh. The other killer who was lying in wait beside the door was at quite a distance from him, and this killer did not show any emotions in the face of his comrade's death. Snowstorm admitted that he had met a few troublesome guys. Of course, Snowstorm did not really mind about these matters. Moreover, time did not allow him to do much reflection because the opponent's sword was already arriving between his eyebrows.

Fortunately, the one who was attacked was Paul. He already had experience dealing with bladed weapons of more than ten types simultaneously. As for the current situation he was facing, it could be said that even the trials could not measure up.

The assassin remained behind the corpse that was still spurting out blood; undoubtedly it was the best shield. Snowstorm only used a part of the corpse and managed to block the arrow. The sound of the arrow piercing into a person's body was not something pleasant to hear. Just after that depressing sound that made one shudder, the room erupted with the sound of copper and metal clashing that was more ear piercing.

Snowstorm used his dagger to strike the sword away from its attacking position. Just when the opponent was still within the sword's attacking inertia, The King of Assassins' dagger was already pressed up against the rapier's inclined plane and sliding towards the opponent's throat.

The killer wanted to dodge this terrifying attack. In reality, he indeed dodged it, but when he saw the sparks produced by the friction between the dagger and the rapier, he had already lost his life. When his body followed the command of his brain to retreat backwards quickly, he saw the blood that spurted out from his throat spray onto the whole wall.

One second! The third sharp arrow had already lost its patience. Snowstorm used the corpse as a shield and moved about the room at high speed. When he boosted himself using the corpse, stepped onto the wall and soared up into the air, the unfortunate killer already had five rapiers embedded into his body.

Abandon the bow, unsheathe the sword! Bonnard's movements were done practically all at once. Snowstorm, who fell from above, was about to suffer a vicious counter-attack, but instead, Bonnard apparently welcomed the most unfortunate moment in his whole assassin career. Snowstorm did not fall to the ground. He seemed to have gone against the laws of movement. His body glided past the top of Bonnard's head.

At that moment, Bonnard finally understood just how formidable his opponent was. When this ”Disgraced Country Knight” slipped past the top of his head, he knew that his career as an assassin was over. The reason was very simple, he was already incapable of turning around. The long sword in his hand still had to deal with Snowstorm's dagger that who knows when would be thrown at him.

The long sword sent the dagger flying away. With a ”Tut”, the dagger pierced into the opposite wall. Bonnard did not dare move. He sensed a body behind him that radiated superior capabilities. At that moment, there was a point of an icy-cold blade against his throat.

Until then only did Bonnard realize how his opponent could glide through the air like a bird. There were extremely fine steel wires that dangled down from the chandelier on the ceiling and those were attached to the man behind him.

Snowstorm unmasked Bonnard. Piqued, the King of Assassins sized up this man of the same trade.

”Hey, friend! Do you know what is the highest order of hunting?”

”No.” Bonnard did not perceive that he was being confronted by death at that moment, instead, he felt strangely at ease.

”It is to be hunted by your prey.” Paul was filled with emotion. Each time victory and defeat were distinguished with his adversary, he could not bear it. This was because he did not know when the fate of his adversary would befall himself.

”Oh? That's right! You are very right.” Bonnard nodded his head. He felt that the iciness of the blade had alleviated a little.

”I am Snowstorm. Snowstorm never kills a nobody.” Paul's voice was approaching freezing point.

”Snowstorm?” Upon hearing the name, Bonnard was naturally truly astounded. After all, there was a huge gap between the King of Assassins and a country knight. ”I... I am very honored. We are the Inferno Assassination group and I am their leader, Bonnard. Uh... Bonnard the Paladin.” Bonnard, who was about to die under the King of Assassin's blade, was ashamed to mention his name. He felt that if he added the title of Paladin to his name, it could make him feel slightly better.

”Good gracious! Really? You're a Paladin?” Snowstorm was bewildered.

Bonnard was a little indignant despite being able to tell that the King of Assassins did not carry any scorn in his words. ”Of course! Just like how I respect you, no assassin would use a matter like this to joke about.”

”Very well! Very well! My friend, I do not mean it that way. Just that you are about to become the tenth paladin that I have killed. Haha! My reactions were a little excessive, but it is something worth celebrating about.”

Bonnard did not know whether he should cry or laugh. He grudgingly replied Snowstorm, ”Then congratulations to you. You ARE the King of Assassins!”

”Then let us not talk about this, okay!” Snowstorm could tell that Bonnard was unhappy. ”Last question, my friend, who sent you?”

Bonnard rejoiced a little. He could finally look at the King of Assassins behind him with contempt. ”If it were your distinguished self in my place, would you answer a question such as that?”

Snowstorm rubbed his nose embarrassedly and subsequently brandished his hand that was wielding the sword.

Bonnard fell and his blood immediately pooled on the ground. Snowstorm steadily reeled in the hook of the steel wire that had been shot onto the chandelier. Before he left, he stopped to explain to Bonnard's corpse, ”I only was merely casually asking.”

***************

Oscar held the rapier he had seized and restlessly strolled along the wide corridor. He walked steadily without the slightest hint of fear that he was about to be attacked by assassins.

”Hey! Young man!” Snowstorm's voice traveled down from one of the windows to the corridor. ”How are your spoils?”

”Not much.” Oscar shook his head. In reality, Oscar had already lost this match from the start. Even if he really strived hard, he could only perhaps scare Snowstorm. For when it came to killing, Oscar's experience could not compare to that of the King of Assassins.

”Do not be discouraged, there are still quite a few of them we haven't met yet right?” Snowstorm happily consoled the little prince.