I was cornered.
My back was pressed against the frozen canal wall, and no matter how hard I tried, my legs refused to respond. I kept telling them to move, again and again, but nothing happened. Only pain answered me. It was sharp, spreading, and cold pain
The assassin stepped closer.
Slow. Confident. Certain.
A wide grin stretched across his face, too wide, too calm, as he had already decided how this would end.
"Don't worry," he said softly. "I'll make it quick."
My chest tightened.
That tone… it felt familiar.
For a brief moment, my mind drifted, and a figure stood in front of me. Frans. The way he threw me away from the Chamber of Honor and told me to run.
I try to run.
But this time…I can't run...
And now, I was the one on the ground.
The one about to die.
My fingers twitched.
Then moved.
Barely.
I dragged my body forward, inch by inch.
If I couldn't stand, I would crawl.
If I couldn't run, I would drag my feet.
Until the very end.
The assassin chuckled behind me.
"Still trying?" he said.
His footsteps echoed closer.
Closer.
Then…
Thump
A wet, heavy sound.
A body falling.
I froze and turned my head.
The assassin… collapsed forward.
A blade was buried deep in his back.
Another assassin stood behind him.
His ally.
The stabbed man coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth.
"You…!" he gasped. "Weren't we going to split…"
"No," the other one replied coldly. "That would be a waste."
He twisted the blade deeper.
The first assassin roared and lunged, grabbing him, dragging both of them to the ground.
They rolled across the frozen surface, grappling, striking, clawing at each other.
I stared.
My mind struggled to process what I was seeing.
Betrayal and greed.
They weren't working together.
They were competing.
For me.
For my eyes.
My instincts suddenly screamed.
This was my chance.
The two assassins struggled violently.
The stabbed one clung desperately, refusing to die, locking his arms around the other's body. The backstabber tried to break free, choking him, forcing him down.
I stopped crawling.
Forced my trembling hands to steady.
Focused everything I had left, my eyes, my strength, my mana, into my arms.
I only had one chance.
The stabbed assassin weakened.
His grip loosened.
The backstabber tightened his hold, confident, ready to finish him.
That was the moment.
I threw.
Two daggers.
One from each hand.
Stab. Stab.
They struck perfectly.
Both into his eyes.
He screamed.
A raw, broken sound as blood poured through his eyes.
I didn't hesitate.
I threw again.
Two more daggers.
Both into his throat.
He choked, staggered, then collapsed.
The stabbed assassin is frozen too, with his eyes and mouth open.
Silence followed.
I scanned the surroundings immediately.
Every direction.
Every movement.
They were coming.
All of them.
Drawn by the scream.
"…damn it…"
I curse my luck.
But now I understand something.
They were not united.
They were greedy.
Desperate.
Competing.
I grabbed the last potion from my pouch.
Drank it.
Then poured the rest over my leg wounds.
The pain surged, sharp and burning, but I bit my lip and forced myself to stay silent.
The wounds began to close.
Not fully.
But enough for me to stand and run again.
I stood.
Unstable.
My legs trembled, but they held.
Daggers flew toward me.
Three of them.
I dodged, barely, my body moving on instinct alone.
Then I ran.
Not away.
Toward the next group who are chasing me from another side.
Even I knew it was insane.
A group approached from the front.
Another from behind.
I was sandwiched.
Perfect.
I slowed.
Let one blade from the back scrape across my back, and let one blade from the front stab my waist.
Pain exploded through me, but I was used to it.
I fell forward, rolled, making it look worse than it was. I secretly scrape my waist to make more blood.
I try to look like a broken and helpless little boy.
Actually, that's me now. Broken and helpless little boy.
Then I screamed.
Everything I had left.
"HELP ME!"
My voice tore.
"PLEASE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
Again.
Louder.
More desperate.
"DON'T TAKE MY EYES…PLEASE!"
I scanned while screaming.
More groups converged.
They were faster and closer
More of them is approaching.
Good.
"Don't worry, kid," one assassin said, approaching me. "We'll make it painless."
He reached into his pocket.
Swiish.
A dagger flew past me.
Straight into his throat.
Another group arrived.
"That kid is ours!"
"No, he's ours!"
And then…
They started killing each other.
The first clash was immediate.
Four against four.
Blades cut through flesh without hesitation.
One man lost his arm instantly.
Another had his throat opened.
Blood sprayed across the snow.
Hot against the freezing air.
A man screamed as a blade pierced his stomach.
Another stabbed him repeatedly until he stopped moving.
Then another group arrived.
They attacked the survivors.
Without hesitation.
Without mercy.
One man was pinned down and stabbed through the face.
Another had his spine broken.
The last tried to run but was struck down by a dagger from behind.
Before they can celebrate, another group came again.
Then they turned on each other.
Again.
It happened again.
And again.
Three times.
Each time more brutal.
More desperate.
It feels like they are losing their mind.
No alliances.
No trust.
Only greed.
I kept screaming.
Until my voice broke.
Until only a hoarse sound came out.
When the chaos finally slows down.
Bodies lay everywhere.
Dozens of them.
Blood-soaked into the frozen canal merges with filth and trash.
Only five assassins remained.
Two groups.
Watching each other in tension.
Waiting for final strikes.
I scanned again.
And my chest dropped.
One of the four most powerful mana signatures, with three dense mana signatures approached.
The strong Assassin group.
My chance was gone.
They will easily kill all the assassins left, and I…
Still can't escape…
Despair settled in.
Heavy.
Cold.
My chest tightened.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
Why?
Why me?
Why this?
Why is my life always like this?
Why has the world always abandoned me?
A memory surfaced.
Fire.
Screams.
Frans.
Father and Mother.
"Survive."
"I don't want this…" I whispered.
No one heard.
"I didn't choose this…"
The world spun again.
That same suffocating feeling.
Then…
The approaching assassins stopped.
Two new presences appeared.
Light green mana.
Familiar mana was detected.
Seyren Duvent.
Eremes Duvent.
Margaretha's brother and the leader of this mission.
Behind them, more followed.
Dozen faint grey mana detected.
Assombrir clan.
…I was saved.
But I feel nothing. Not happy or relieved at all. Just…emptiness
"Haha…" one assassin laughed weakly.
"I win…"
He staggered toward me, barely standing.
"…now the prize…"
I reached for my pouch.
Empty.
No daggers left.
So I drew my greatsword, which was sitting in my back all this time.
He threw a dagger.
I dodged with all my strength left.
Another.
I dodged again.
Then he rushed forward.
His attack was desperate and wild.
I blocked his strike.
Then another.
Then another.
His movements were sloppy now.
Uncontrolled.
He tried to hide it, but he was heavily wounded too.
So, I waited.
Watched him carefully.
No, need to rush. Just waiting.
Help is coming.
He is running toward me now.
A gap appeared.
I kicked his leg.
He staggered.
I stepped forward.
And drove my blade into his chest.
He froze.
Eyes wide.
"No… how…?"
Blood spilled from his mouth.
"…where is the desperation…?"
"Greed… blinds," I whispered in a hoarse voice.
I pulled the blade out.
He collapsed.
Coughing.
Crying.
"…what a shitty life…"
Then he stopped moving.
I didn't celebrate.
I just sat there.
Breathing.
I scanned again.
The strong mana signatures from enemies were gone.
Only allies' mana signatures remained.
Seyren approached.
Calm as ever.
"Good work," he said. "Now we have perfect evidence."
He held a bloodied bag.
Inside was a head.
I didn't need to look.
"…Count Bordeaux's personal assassin," he added. "Now Count Versailles will fully support us."
"…Spiro?" I asked.
My voice was hoarse, and my throat was hurting every time I spoke.
"He's alive," Eremes answered. "He escaped."
"…the others?"
"They're safe."
I felt nothing.
No relief.
Only emptiness.
Eremes lifted me carefully.
"Rest," he said.
I didn't resist.
As we walked, the cold finally reached me.
Deep and Unavoidable.
"…Margaretha?" I asked as my vision blurred.
Eremes paused briefly. "…she survived too."
"That's..not..what…i…mean…" I try to talk with all the strength left in my throat.
"Oh, it was a mission, so I have to treat her like our fellow assassin…" he explained it in one word.
I understand his intention, but I understand Margaretha's feelings too.
Let's think about the complicated things later….
A warm blanket wrapped around me.
Soft.
Too soft.
My body relaxed.
Against my will.
The world blurred.
Then faded.