Chapter 70
From the beginning, Killian had never thought of himself as particularly honorable.
And if survival became impossible, he would at least land a fatal blow on his enemy.
If he couldn’t take their life, then at the very least, he would leave a scar so deep they’d never forget this moment for the rest of their life.
Klein’s eyelids twitched. It seemed he had expected Killian to flee in fear.
“Do you even know how to think for yourself?”
“What?”
“I mean, besides what your dear mother drilled into your head. Have you ever used your own brain and limbs?”
Still without drawing a weapon, Killian stepped closer to Klein. Every nerve in his body was taut, yet his face and voice remained eerily calm.
“Even now, you’re probably planning to spout a few threats and wait quietly for me to die. You’ll live your whole life like that.”
Klein’s hand, which had been reaching for the longsword at his waist, froze.
Even if this was an assassination attempt, drawing his sword first against a child in front of Luseik’s retainers would be an affront to his pride. Especially if it looked like he lost his temper because of a child’s taunts.
“Stop spouting nonsense and draw your sword,” he commanded in a low voice.
“I’ll handle you myself.”
Klein was confident. He had trained with a sword since he was four years old. His opponent, on the other hand, was just a boy who probably had never even had a fencing instructor—and barely reached his chest.
Even if the child had some mana, gathering mana required intense focus. It wasn’t something a child could deploy mid-combat.
The guards surrounding them were Klein’s future followers. If he could succeed where the subordinate hiding in the trees had failed, he would surely earn their respect.
Taking a step forward to prove his point, Klein narrowed the distance between them to just two paces.
“Well, the guy on your right doesn’t seem to agree with you.”
Klein’s eyes darted to the direction Killian nodded toward.
In that exact moment, Killian drew the dagger from his waist and lunged.
Swish—
What Klein saw in the corner of his eye was Killian’s afterimage, left behind as he suddenly closed the distance.
The sharp blue blade was aimed at Klein’s abdomen. Just before it could make contact, Klein twisted his body with all his might.
Paak—
“Urgh!”
The blade didn’t strike cleanly, but neither did it miss. Klein clutched his now-bloodied side and fell to one knee.
“Your Highness!”
The bystanders shouted in unison, drawing their swords toward Killian. But Killian didn’t stop moving.
Whoosh—Clang—
Clutching his wound and groaning, Klein barely managed to half-draw his sword and block Killian’s next strike.
Damn it.
Killian cursed internally.
The ambush had failed—he’d only managed to wound his opponent. The chance to kill him was now gone.
Luseik’s assassins were rushing in. Soon, one of their blades would run him through.
I should’ve taken out the Phoenix yesterday.
Screw the rules—he should’ve just roamed freely through Sector 2. A vision of Harper’s delighted face when she received only the chick flashed through his mind.
If Killian died… would she be sad?
Strangely, that thought brought a mix of sorrow and pride. Not a bad final memory.
“You bastard!”
Klein, regaining his footing, fully drew his sword and swung, forcing Killian back.
Slice—!
A streak of blue steel grazed Killian’s chest, and blood splattered. But at that very moment, Klein’s upper body was completely exposed.
Their eyes met mid-air. Even in this life-or-death battle, Klein’s gaze was full of arrogance.
Killian’s green eyes gleamed. The wound in his chest wasn’t fatal.
He had just decided how to make this moment unforgettable for Klein—a memory carved in agony.
He steadied himself and lunged once more. One of the guards shouted behind him. If he didn’t hurry, Klein—or one of the others—would stab him soon.
Whoosh—
As Klein detected his movement and brought his sword forward again, Killian raised his dagger with both hands and plunged it straight toward Klein’s left eye.
Grab.
Clang—!
No scream.
Instead of the satisfying, solid impact he had expected, the blade was stopped in midair.
But Klein’s sword hadn’t pierced his heart, either. Klein’s sword had been deflected by something sharp that came flying out of nowhere.
“That’s enough.”
Killian’s eyes shifted slightly. A man’s hand had grabbed his arm from behind.
Whoosh—
The man yanked Killian back, separating him from Klein, and turned to face him.
He was wearing a mask and dressed in black. He wasn’t one of Luseik’s retainers.
“You move fast. If I’d been hidden even a little farther back, I might not have made it in time.”
Narrowing his eyes, Killian studied the man’s face. Though slight of build, his well-toned muscles showed he wasn’t someone to take lightly.
“You’re…”
There was something oddly familiar about the eyes above the mask. That piercing gaze—he’d felt it before.
A knight from Harper’s camp.
As if reading the realization from Killian’s expression, the man raised his index finger to his lips and gestured for silence, scanning their surroundings.
Only then did Killian glance back at Klein, who had just tried to kill him.
Klein was looking around in shock.
“W-Who are you people?!”
Where his gaze landed, it was no longer just Luseik’s guards standing there.
About ten figures in black clothing had surrounded them—when they had arrived, no one could tell. One of them held a small, sharp dagger similar to the one that had deflected Klein’s blade.
“Let’s wrap this up quickly,” said the masked man—Sion, Harper’s knight.
One of his subordinates nodded and pulled something from their cloak.
It wasn’t a weapon, but a small vial.
Judging by the guards’ pale expressions, they knew it wasn’t ordinary.
“Cover your nose and mouth with this. If not, there may be some side effects in your brain,” Sion said, handing a piece of black cloth to Killian.
Without hesitation, Killian did as instructed.
Sion’s subordinate opened the vial with a flick of the finger. A thick smoke began pouring out endlessly from what had seemed like a tiny container.
“Kill them—kill them all!” Klein’s voice echoed through the hunting grounds.
But it was futile. The smoke spread instantly. One by one, the guards collapsed, unconscious.
Thud—
It took only seconds for the last one to fall.
“W-Who sent you?” Klein snarled, eyes wide open in a final effort, but he could no longer move his limbs.
“Put him to sleep faster,” Sion said flatly.
A subordinate came up behind Klein and struck him in the back of the head.
Thwack—
Klein collapsed, unconscious, without even a scream.
The thick smoke, which had knocked out seven people including the one caught in the trap, gradually faded into the air.
“Well then, Your Highness—”
Whoosh—
Sion stopped mid-sentence, his eyes hardening as he looked down.
“What are you doing?”
Killian’s dagger was aimed at his throat.
“Why did you save me? What did you plan to do to me, abandoning the master you’re supposed to protect?”
Killian’s tone wasn’t panicked, but it was laced with razor-sharp suspicion.
“That’s how you talk to someone who just saved your life? And will be the one treating that chest wound?”
Sion raised an eyebrow, amused.
Killian didn’t flinch. The blood seeping from his chest didn’t matter—his sharp green eyes stayed fixed on Sion.
“Who do you serve? Luseik’s enemies? My mother’s?”
“Quite the perceptive prince.”
It was a sharpness unexpected from an 11-year-old.
Sion had thought the boy would tremble the whole time, cry from pain, or beg for protection. But instead, Killian was calmly questioning him, clearly aware of the situation.
Bad timing, though.
Sion scanned the surroundings.
“This isn’t the time to ask that. Regardless of who I am, I’m someone you need to take help from right now.”
“I’ll decide that.”
“Listen carefully. Soon, the monster they prepared will—”
“Why did you approach Harper?”
“…What?”
Sion blinked, startled.
“Was it to use her to get to me? Or my brother?”
Killian’s voice was fast, urgent. Logical though he was, for the first time, a hint of desperation showed.
Sion was stunned, as if he’d been struck.
“…That’s what you’re worried about?”
“Is Harper safe?”
“She’s perfectly safe—aside from gaining a bit of weight recently. And she’s not someone who can be used by me or anyone.”
Sion answered calmly, hiding his surprise.
Perhaps the words “our lady” did the trick, because Killian finally lowered his dagger.
The killing intent from earlier had completely vanished.
“Then… who are you?”
His tone had softened considerably.
Sion smiled faintly. The prince who had just tried to kill his own half-brother had reverted, in an instant, to the transparent-hearted boy Sion had seen at the camp the night before—pure, and easy to read.
