Chapter 69 : Chapter 69
The Underground Waterway of Rasseu
Water flowed silently down the center of the channel. Narrow paths flanked the waterway on both sides. Lamps, hung sporadically from the stone walls, burned without a sound.
An unsettlingly silent place.
That was Leytia’s thought.
Sevha, standing before her, sensed something else. Dagger in hand, his ears tracked the faint footfalls within the silence.
They’re coming.
The moment the thought crossed his mind, a figure rounded the corner at the far end of the path. It was an assassin, clad in a long, hooded robe and a white mask.
Upon spotting Sevha, and Leytia behind him, the assassin raised a small flute to his lips.
An eerie note echoed through the underground waterway. The assassin drew a dagger and fell into a defensive stance, then held his ground.
He won’t move until his allies arrive?
Sevha was certain this was no clumsy thug but a properly trained assassin.
And so, he decided to shatter that discipline.
Sevha swung his dagger, shattering the nearest lamp.
Crash!
Instantly, Sevha’s vicinity was plunged into darkness.
Then he advanced. He broke the lamps on the wall as he walked.
Crash!
Forward he went, shattering the lamps one by one.
Crash!
The light along the narrow path vanished, section by section.
It was as if a living darkness were devouring the light, advancing on the assassin.
Crash!
The living darkness consumed the space right before the assassin.
The man tightened his defensive stance and stared into the gloom.
Then…
CRASH!
Sevha shattered the lamp right beside him.
The darkness devoured the assassin, and he flinched.
In that same instant, he dimly saw it: the movement of an arm, like the maw of the darkness itself.
And then the dagger gripped in that hand buried itself in the crown of the assassin’s head.
SPLASH!
The assassin’s corpse toppled into the waterway. Sevha emerged from the darkness, dagger in hand.
He looked past the corner and said coldly to Leytia, “Let’s go.”
Sevha had taken only a few steps past the corner when another assassin appeared.
Seeing his comrade gone, the new assassin seemed to decide that hesitation would lead to the same fate.
So he charged. The moment he reached Sevha, he swung his dagger.
Sevha immediately shattered the lamp beside him with his own dagger.
CRASH!
The space between them was devoured by darkness.
The assassin’s dagger cut only empty air.
A sense of vertigo, as if he’d fallen into an abyss, sent his tension spiking.
Then something shot up from below his line of sight.
He glanced down to see Sevha, crouched low to the ground, thrusting a dagger upward.
Before he could evade, Sevha’s dagger pierced his jaw.
SPLASH!
The assassin’s corpse pitched into the waterway. Sevha emerged from the darkness.
At the far end of the path stood another assassin.
He must have seen his comrade die. Terror filled the eyes visible through the holes in his mask.
Trembling, the assassin pulled a lamp from its sconce on the wall, holding it forward like a shield while aiming his dagger at Sevha.
Ignoring the man’s fear, Sevha advanced.
He walked on, shattering lamps as he went.
CRASH!
Sevha became a living darkness that crept slowly toward the assassin.
CRASH! CRASH!
I have light, the assassin told himself. I’ll be fine. As long as I’m not swallowed by the darkness, I can fight back.
CRASH! CRASH! CRASH!
He repeated the thought dozens of times.
The moment the darkness reached him, a dagger flew out of it.
Startled, the assassin deflected the dagger with his own.
An instant later.
“Ah…”
Two arms shot out from the darkness, seizing his wrists—one holding the lamp, the other his dagger.
The lamp trembled, its glass threatening to shatter.
The bones in his dagger hand shattered. Slowly, the point of his own weapon was turned toward his face.
“Aaaah…!”
The assassin had studied murder his entire life. He couldn’t understand how he had fallen for such a simple trick, a thrown dagger as a decoy.
He had light. He had not been consumed by the darkness. He could not understand why he was being overpowered so helplessly.
Then, from within the gloom, Sevha slowly revealed his face.
The moment he saw that frigid, fearless face, the assassin understood.
His comrades and he had not been consumed by darkness.
They had been consumed by fear. And fear had robbed them of the skills they had honed over a lifetime.
Realizing this, the assassin was dumbfounded.
“What are you,” the assassin whispered, “to frighten men who have made a study of death?”
CRASH!
Sevha’s hand crushed the assassin’s lamp.
The instant darkness devoured the man, a scream echoed from within it.
SPLASH!
The scream ceased only when the assassin’s corpse, a dagger buried in its face, fell into the water.
Sevha stepped out of the darkness, wiped his hands, and spoke lightly to Leytia.
“Shall we go?”
It was then.
A drop of water fell in front of Sevha’s feet.
Sevha leaped back.
Just as he did, a figure dropped from the ceiling, driving a dagger into the stone where he had stood an instant before.
Sevha regarded the figure.
The same attire as the other assassins, but this one wore a black mask.
The assassin in the black mask raised only his eyes to meet Sevha’s.
“How did you know?” he asked, his voice a metallic grate. “I had erased my presence completely.”
“A drop of water fell out of rhythm,” Sevha replied.
The black-masked assassin gave a dry, scraping laugh, as if in disbelief yet amused.
Then he threw several small glass vials into the waterway and darted past Sevha.
“You’re a monster. You learned not how to kill, but how to be a killer.”
The glass vials struck the water and shattered, releasing plumes of purple smoke.
Sevha recognized the smoke instantly.
Vile Dragonbreath?
He bolted to Leytia’s side and slung her over his shoulder, then ran.
“What’s happening?”
“Dammit! Where did they get something like this?”
“What is that smoke?”
“It melts flesh on contact! The more it consumes, the denser it gets!”
Not fully understanding, Leytia looked back.
Several rats, startled by their flight, scurried toward the purple smoke.
The moment the rats touched it, their flesh dissolved, and new blossoms of purple smoke bloomed where they had been.
“Uh… are there a lot of rats here?”
“Of course there are!”
“Th-then could you please run!”
“I am running!”
The purple smoke swelled, surging toward them like a tide. Sevha fled, running for his life. After a moment, he spotted a small shadow hurrying along the path on the other side of the waterway.
A child?
As the shadow disappeared around a corner, purple smoke billowed toward Sevha from ahead.
“Dammit! There was more?”
Sevha leaped across the waterway to the opposite path and ran in the direction the small shadow had gone.
He didn’t know how far he ran. When he glanced back, the purple smoke was filling the entire channel, chasing him.
Hisssssss…
Hearing the sizzle of rats being incinerated behind him, Sevha gritted his teeth and ran with all his might.
HISSSSSSSSSSS…!
An exit leading out of the underground waterway came into view.
Sevha felt a searing pain as the very edge of the smoke licked his ear.
“Hold on tight!”
The moment he burst through the exit, he threw himself and his burden into a deep section of the waterway outside.
Immediately, the purple smoke swept over the surface of the water.
A few moments later, Leytia broke the surface. Sevha was clinging to her, sputtering and coughing up water.
“You can’t swim?”
“I can hold my breath!”
Leytia sighed as if at a pathetic child and swam skillfully, pulling them both from the water.
Sevha knelt on the ground, coughing, while Leytia patted his back.
After a few moments, Leytia looked toward the underground waterway they had escaped from.
The purple smoke was fainter now, but it still flowed from the tunnel’s mouth.
“I never knew something so terrifying existed.”
Sevha, having finally caught his breath, retorted, “That’s to be expected. To make Vile Dragonbreath, you need the lungs of an evil dragon… and evil dragons are difficult to find, let alone hunt.”
Having said that, his mind raced.
Leytia, the Duce’s daughter, targeted by assassins. An assassin who could erase his presence so well that even I almost missed him. The power, the wealth, to acquire and use Dragonbreath.
When he put the pieces together, only one picture emerged.
The Barsh Royal Family…
***
A Cellar in Rasseu Castle
It was a cellar now, but old, red-brown stains splattered across the walls suggested it had once served another purpose.
A table stood in the center of the room.
Upon it lay three corpses, skin melted away, their features unrecognizable.
Teresse and Baren stood on either side of the corpses.
As if to prove the rumors of their animosity true, they stood in silence.
Sevha entered the cellar.
“Hah… Eshu’s nagging is reaching the level of an art form. Anyway, Baren, are you ready—”
Seeing not only Baren but Teresse as well, Sevha’s expression turned to ice.
“Do you know what I’m about to do?” he asked her.
“I do.”
“How?”
“Magic of cours—”
As Teresse began to feign her usual ignorance, Baren drew his handaxe and took a slow step toward her.
Sevha did not stop him.
Teresse, realizing Sevha was serious about keeping this a secret, answered truthfully.
“Your hunting skills are strange. The same with all those of Anse. To say they come simply from long experience… it’s too advanced.”
At her deduction, Sevha sighed as if he had no choice.
“Baren, stop.”
“Lord Sevha.”
“She already knows. It’s better to make her an accomplice.”
Just as Baren reluctantly returned the handaxe to his belt, Legra entered the cellar.
The moment he saw the grotesque corpses on the table, Legra tensed.
“You called for me… What is this?”
Teresse, realizing Sevha had summoned Legra, immediately scowled. “Are you sane?”
“It’s a necessary step to become a Hunter of Anse.”
Not wanting to hear any more of Teresse’s nagging, Sevha spoke directly to Legra.
“Legra, what you are about to see is taboo, forbidden by the Papal See. You must never speak of it.”
“Yes? Ah, yes.”
Sevha gave Baren a look.
Baren placed a bag on the floor and unrolled it, revealing a set of knives.
They were not for cooking, nor for hunting. Their shapes were strange, specialized.
Seeing them, Teresse’s eyes widened in shock.
“It makes one wonder just how long you’ve been doing this, to have created such suitable tools.”
Sevha picked up one of the knives and replied, “As long as the history of Anse.”
Having answered, he plunged the knife into the space between a corpse’s ribs and stomach.
“Dissection.”
He drew the blade straight down.