Chapter 184 : Purge (2)
Purge (2)
― Drip. Drip.
The secret meeting hall in the damp underground canal.
The bosses of the five major criminal organizations, infamous throughout the Greysel territory, sat gathered around a large round table.
All of them had lost their usual arrogance; each face was ashen.
"All... all dead... The smuggling guild to the west, the mercenary corps to the south—they were all wiped out this afternoon!"
The boss of the Black Spider Syndicate shouted, cold sweat pouring down his face.
"How is this even possible!? Do you know how much money we've been pouring into the Greysel family for over ten years? Now that the lord changed overnight, they're trying to cut us down!?"
"Haa... We're just as screwed, so shut up. We didn't gather here to whine about our fate."
"How were we supposed to know Hugo and Rufus would die so pathetically? F*ck!"
The boss of the Black Hook pounded the table with his hooked hand and growled.
"It's those hounds that are the real problem... Rubenstein's Red Herald Knight Order, Bellator's Violet Corps! Why are such high-and-mighty members of the Seven Great Martial Families messing up our back-alley businesses? How is that rookie, Ian Greysel, commanding such monsters!? Damn it! If only those hounds didn't exist!"
Their cries, filled with fear and resentment, echoed through the underground canal.
It had only been a few days since Ian became the lord.
The criminal ecosystem of Greysel was facing utter destruction.
The new family head wasn't moved by bribes or threats.
He allowed no negotiations or room for compromise.
He simply sought out criminals, following the list in order, cutting their throats with machine-like precision.
"At this rate, it'll be our turn soon! We're as good as dead!"
Just then, the boss with the greatest power, the head of the "Black Sand Society," who sat at the head seat, spoke gravely.
"Calm yourselves."
He swept his sharp, pale eyes across the other bosses.
"It's not like there's no way out."
"A way?"
"What way!"
"Don Black Sand. What are you thinking?"
"Why are those hounds attacking us? It's all at the command of Ian Greysel, the one holding their leash."
Don Black Sand, boss of the Black Sand Society, stabbed a dagger into the table.
― KAANG!
"If the master holding the leash dies, the hounds will lose their way."
"......!"
"If we just kill Ian Greysel, it all ends. Did you really think those haughty Rubenstein and Bellator folks would naturally join hands and tidy up someone else's house? The only reason those beasts are wallowing in this muddy swamp is because Ian Greysel is the current center. Remove him, and the two families' cooperation ends as well."
The bosses' gazes wavered.
"H-heh...!"
"The moment Ian dies, those two families' armies will bare their fangs at each other for control of the territory. Outwardly, they'll call for revenge, but in reality, they'll be too busy checking each other to properly chase us down. All we need to do is keep our heads down during the chaos, until those factions bleed themselves dry and withdraw."
"Assassination!"
The assassination of Ian Greysel.
Of course, it was an idea that had crossed their minds.
But their target was a prodigy swordsman so talented even the Heavenly Sword Lord favored him.
If they sent a half-baked assassin, they would only provoke his wrath.
"Who hasn't thought about assassination! But the word is, that brat already surpassed the realm of Swordmaster! Sending any ordinary killer wouldn't even scratch him!"
"That's why."
Don Black Sand took a piece of vellum stamped with a black seal from his jacket and threw it on the table.
"I've gathered all our secret funds and made a stake. Sixty thousand gold."
"Sixty thousand gold...!?"
"With this much money, we can move that person."
When the bosses checked the black scythe symbol on the vellum, they all drew a sharp breath.
No one in the underworld didn't recognize that mark.
"No way...!"
"T-the Reapers!"
One of the world's top three assassination organizations.
"Yes. One of the Reapers' highest executives. I've hired the Reaper himself. Tonight, he's coming for Ian Greysel's head."
At that name, hope returned to the faces of the frightened bosses.
He was a seasoned master-class assassin.
Unlike knights, who fight head-on, assassins strike from the shadows, able to kill even someone above their own level in a single blow.
In other words, unless Ian was a Grandmaster, he had no chance of surviving the Reaper's killing arts.
"The Reapers are the ones who even assassinated an emperor, aren't they! And if it's the Reaper himself, their top executive... We can believe in him!"
"No matter how much of a prodigy Swordmaster Ian is, not even he can evade the supreme assassin's dagger from the darkness!"
"Hahaha! We're saved! We survived!"
As the bosses burst out in relieved laughter—
― Srrrk.
A figure rose like smoke from the deepest shadow of the underground canal.
No footsteps, no presence, not even the sound of rustling clothes.
"H-huh!"
"Aagh! You scared me!"
The bosses jumped up in fright.
"Sir Reaper!"
The infamous top-class assassin, the Reaper.
He swept a chilly gaze over the round table's bosses.
"What a gloomy place. The payment is ready, I trust."
His dry, sand-like voice rang through the canal.
"Of course!"
The Black Sand Society boss hurriedly ordered his men to bring over huge sacks of gold coins and bundles of promissory notes.
"Thirty thousand gold upfront. The remainder to be paid when the job is done. Please, bring us that brat's head...!"
"Hmph."
― Swish!
The Reaper flicked his cloak, and the gold and chests vanished without a trace.
"... Marvelous!"
"His hands are lightning-fast!"
"Truly first-class skill!"
"Ian Greysel, huh..."
The Reaper's eyes narrowed.
"I've heard of him. An unprecedented prodigy who broke through the wall of Swordmaster in his teens."
The corner of his mouth twisted beneath the mask.
"But in the end, he's still just a swordsman. The honorable games of the arena, crossing swords in the light, are fundamentally different from trading lives in the dark. No matter how brilliant his swordplay, he won't even see my shadow. His heart's already as good as stopped."
"Oooh...!"
"As expected of the Reaper!"
The Reaper unsheathed a dark dagger slick with deadly poison from his belt.
"Before sunrise tomorrow, I'll place the brat's head right on this table."
― Swish!
Before he even finished his words, the Reaper's form melted into the air.
Only the bosses' excited expectations and laughter remained in the canal.
"Kuhaha! Now I can relax! Ian Greysel, your arrogant rule ends tonight!"
"The shortest reign ever! Puhahaha!"
* * *
That night.
Sunshine Castle. Ian's bedroom.
Ian was fast asleep.
On either side of him, Yuria and Sophia clung to his chest, quietly breathing.
Thick clouds covered the moon outside, and the room was pitch-black.
― Slither...
From within that deep darkness, a shadow silently slipped into the room.
Neither door nor window opened.
Even the magical barrier gave no reaction.
This was the ultimate assassination art: moving from shadow to shadow as if warping.
The Reaper's secret technique: Shadowstep.
He clung to the bedroom ceiling like an insect, staring intently down at the unguarded, sleeping Ian.
'Heh. Sleeping easy, is he. After stirring up the crime gangs so thoroughly, to be lying here defenseless... pathetic.'
The Reaper curled his lips in a quiet smirk.
You'd expect a swordsman to sleep clutching his blade, but this brat was snoring away with women pressed to both sides.
'In the end, no matter how much of a genius, he's just a blood-hot rookie. Actually, this prey is so easy, it's hardly worth using expensive poison on my dagger. Still, I'm not complaining about the fee.'
― Slide.
The Reaper dropped soundlessly from the ceiling.
Even as his feet touched the floor, there wasn't so much as the sound of a feather falling.
He gripped his poisoned dagger tightly and approached Ian's neck.
'I'll take your head in a flash. Heheheh.'
Those girlfriends of yours lying on either side will only realize in the morning—
That they'd been sleeping with a headless corpse.
― Shaaaaa!
A master assassin's killing intent, compressed to its very limit for a single, perfect strike.
Ian's throat was about to be pierced with a rush of air—
― Tak.
"......!?"
The falling dagger was suddenly caught and blocked by something.
A porcelain-white hand had appeared out of nowhere and gripped the blade tightly.
"......!!"
The Reaper's eyes widened until they were about to rip.
His killing stroke, made with all his might, stopped with a bare hand?
No—whose hand was this in the first place!?
He hadn't sensed any other presences at all!
"Shh."
A languid yet chilling woman's voice.
"The master you wish to harm is enjoying deep rest after a long day. Don't make a fuss."
"......!"
At that voice, chills shot up the Reaper's spine.
The owner of the voice stood in a dense shadow at the foot of Ian's bed.
All that could be seen was a slender silhouette, with burning crimson eyes.
"A... a Vampire...!? Ugh!"
And—not just some run-of-the-mill, lesser Vampire.
The oppressive force radiating from her took his breath away.
The Reaper realized something had gone horribly wrong.
'I—I have to run...! H-huuuuugh!!!'
Dropping his dagger, he tried to use Shadowstep to escape immediately.
― Flash.
― Slip.
― Blink, blink.
All around Ian's bedroom.
The ceiling, on top of the wardrobe, behind the curtains—even the doorframe the Reaper had entered through.
In every patch of shadow, countless pairs of crimson eyes stared at the Reaper.
All smiling eerily, in unison.
"H-hiiiiiiik!!"
The Reaper's legs gave out, and he collapsed on the spot.
He'd been sure he'd entered without leaving a trace.
'S-since when!?'
Since when had all these eyes been watching him?
No—why were there so many Vampires hiding in a place like this!?
"Now then..."
Noxcar reached a hand out to the trembling Reaper.
"Let's see the face of the foolish guest who raised a blade against our master."
― Swish!
"A-ah!"
When the mask was removed, the face beneath was unexpectedly—
A young lady, sweet-faced and cute.
Her large eyes quivered with terror.
"Oh-ho..."
Noxcar's red lips curled in amusement.
"H-hic!? P-please... Spare me... mmmph!"
"Shh."
Noxcar covered the Reaper's mouth with a languid gesture.
"Take her away. We'll savor her slowly in the underground. Not a drop of blood left behind... slowly..."
"Uuuuuu! Mmph!!"
The Reaper struggled desperately through tears and runny nose, but was dragged wordlessly into the darkness by the Vampires' mist-like hands.
― Slither.
One by one, the crimson eyes melted back into the darkness and vanished from the room.
Ian smiled quietly, gently stroking the sleeping Yuria and Sophia at his sides.
When morning came, he'd be able to use the assassin's blood to trace the bosses' locations.