Return of the Dragon-Devouring Assassin

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

At Feyr's response, Murk released the collar he had been gripping.

His expression was sour, as though he still didn't fully trust him.

Murk paused for a moment, then opened his mouth.

"I don't know where you heard it from, but it's true I'm looking to hire mercenaries. And yes, I need money for that."

"So what's your reason for hiring them?"

The reason he wanted to hire mercenaries.

That was what mattered most.

It wasn't a contract killing, and it wasn't a monster subjugation request—so why hire mercenaries?

He needed to know the reason clearly before he could help.

Murk could tell that was what Feyr was driving at, and after moving his lips in thought for a moment, he finally began to speak.

"……The truth is, the reason I'm hiring mercenaries is to hit another organization."

"What?"

Where did that come from?

'Murk is going to overturn Pivelia this fast?'

That couldn't be it.

The timing was too early.

Then there must be another motive behind it.

Feyr quietly watched Murk, who had averted his gaze and gone silent, then asked again.

"And why hit another organization?"

"……"

Murk chose silence.

Whether he was thinking of a suitable reason or simply refusing to speak, there was no way to tell.

But what mattered was one thing—Feyr had no intention of letting it go.

Shring—!

Feyr drew his sword and leveled it at Murk's throat.

And from the blade held at his neck—

Fwoom—

Aura rose.

"……!"

It wasn't a powerful Aura, but how would a nobody who wasn't even a swordsman know that.

Simply the fact that the swordsman before him could manifest Aura was enough for Murk to recognize Feyr as someone formidable.

Murk swallowed hard and looked at Feyr's face.

"You…… just who exactly are you?"

"Who knows? What I do know is that I'm more useful than whatever mercenary you're trying to hire."

"Ha……"

At Murk's hollow laugh, Feyr put his sword away.

Murk, who had been holding his tongue, suddenly asked Feyr,

"……But why are you even trying to help me in the first place?"

Feyr rested his hand against his chin and said,

"Good question. Let's call it an investment in the future."

"What are you talking about……?"

Murk looked at him with an expression of utter incomprehension.

Feyr simply shrugged and offered no further reply.

He merely brought the conversation back to where it had been.

"So what organization are you going to hit, and why?"

"……My brother was taken by Red Bell."

"What?"

Feyr's brow furrowed at Murk's words.

His brother was taken by Red Bell—where was this coming from all of a sudden.

'No, even before that.'

This guy had a brother?

Even Feyr was hearing for the first time that the Murk who would become known as the King of the Underworld had a sibling.

Well, he couldn't have known every detail about him.

'Could it be that this guy swallowing up the back alleys was also because of his brother?'

If the kidnapped brother ended up never being found here, it was a scenario that could unfold easily enough.

Looking at it plainly, Murk didn't have the look of someone who was going to become a villain like the King of the Underworld.

Feyr asked Murk to learn more of the truth behind this story.

"Why did Red Bell take your brother?"

Murk opened his mouth with a sunken expression, words heavy.

"……Because my brother is one of Revolt's former drug formulators."

"Your brother is a former drug formulator?"

"To be precise, it wasn't drugs but a narcotic potion he developed."

At the words narcotic potion, Feyr let out a short breath of surprise.

Potions generally came with pain upon use.

What had been developed to reduce that pain was a narcotic potion—one with drugs added to it.

These narcotic potions were continually experimented on to improve their stability, but because of their ingredients, they were frequently misused as drugs.

"So Red Bell took your brother to find out the formula for that potion?"

"Most likely……"

It was a reason that made a certain kind of sense.

As far as Feyr knew, Red Bell had never been in the business of dealing in substances.

Because they were averse to handling them?

No.

Simply because they lacked the skill to deal in them.

'Naturally.'

All the distribution rights within Pivelia were already held entirely by Revolt.

And inside, cheap goods were circulating out onto the streets on their own.

In that kind of situation, to have any chance of carving out a foothold in the drug trade, you'd need something of quality and novelty.

'Truly desperate bastards.'

Feyr clicked his tongue and grimaced.

Regardless, what needed to be done was clear.

Rescue Murk's brother from Red Bell's hands.

'Tonight is going to smell heavily of blood.'

Feyr narrowed his eyes as he watched the sun sink toward the horizon.

He then handed Murk the bag he had tied at his waist and said,

"Take this and go somewhere safe. I'll bring your brother back."

"Wait!"

"……?"

The moment Feyr turned his back, Murk stopped him.

"Let me come with you."

Feyr frowned at Murk's words.

What is this all of a sudden?

'This guy can't even look after himself, let alone actually fight.'

And that guy wanted to be taken into enemy territory?

It was a ridiculous idea.

Feyr let out a long sigh and said,

"I don't have the leeway to protect you on top of rescuing your brother."

"I know. What I mean is I'll clear the escape route."

Feyr's eyes narrowed at Murk's words.

Clear the escape route?

Those words didn't sound like empty boasting.

Because Feyr had the memory of chasing Murk in his past life.

'His ability to flee was something else entirely.'

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea.

Getting out alone was easy enough, but this time he had to rescue a hostage.

Feyr gave a nod and said to Murk,

"Fine. But you'll have to stay well hidden so you don't get caught."

"Don't worry, that's my specialty."

"Alright. Let's get moving then."

"Yeah!"

The 2 of them left the secluded back alley and began heading toward Districts 1 and 2, where Red Bell was based.

***

The 2 arrived at the outskirts of Pivelia's District 1 and crouched low, scanning their surroundings.

Feyr narrowed his eyes and gripped his sword hilt, bracing for a surprise attack.

'Looks like there aren't any guards on this side right now.'

The entry itself looked easy enough.

The only question was how many enemies were swarming inside.

Just as Feyr was thinking that—

"By the way, how are you so sure my brother is in District 1?"

At Murk's questioning from beside him, Feyr gave him a clear and simple answer.

"The reason Red Bell kidnapped your brother Myuren was to find out his potion formula, right? Then there's no way they'd treat him the same as ordinary slaves or prisoners."

Murk let out a small sound of surprise at my words.

Ordinarily, slaves and prisoners were held in District 2.

But Myuren was a slightly special case.

A specialist, in other words.

'You can't just treat that kind of person carelessly.'

Regardless, that was why he'd judged Myuren to be in District 1—and more specifically, to be kept with the leadership.

'He might even be with the boss.'

Not that the result would change either way.

Seeing no guards in the area, Feyr abruptly rose, loaded Mana into his legs, and left Murk with a short parting word before surging forward.

"Be right back."

Feyr charged ahead and leaped straight into the air.

He cleared the tall wooden palisade in a single bound.

As he vaulted over the palisade—

"……?!"

2 guards who had been dozing beneath it jolted awake in alarm.

But.

Slash—!

With a single stroke from Feyr, both their heads fell in the same instant.

It was a clean cut, yet something felt off.

'Ah.'

The sword had reached the end of its lifespan.

That made sense.

The guards at the training ground would have just thrown him whatever iron sword was lying around, so it was no surprise the quality was poor.

'When I was at the training ground I didn't feel the need for a weapon much.'

But now that he was operating outside, he was definitely feeling the need for one.

'Tch, can't be helped.'

For now, he'd have to make do with whatever was available.

Thinking that, Feyr retrieved the 2 iron swords from the bodies of the guards he had just taken down.

He hung both swords at his waist and began moving toward the center.

***

The underground torture chamber in Red Bell's stronghold.

There, several Red Bell members and Nuram—one of the senior officers—were present.

Nuram cracked the whip in his hand and said,

"I'm sick of this too. Just talk already."

Crack! Crack!

The man suspended in the air, body covered in wounds, endured the whip against his bare flesh and maintained his silence.

Because to him, it was atonement for the wrong he had committed.

Nuram let out a deep sigh watching him.

"Keep this up and your little brother is going to be in danger too."

The bound man—Myuren—flinched at the word little brother and lifted his head.

"……Don't. Don't touch my brother. Don't touch Murk."

"Then just tell us the drug formula already, won't you? Our brilliant formulator?"

"That's……"

Myuren couldn't finish.

Nuram spoke on Myuren's behalf.

"Our brilliant formulator was going to make an affordable potion that everyone could use—instead of relying on those high-and-mighty mages at the Mage Tower."

"……"

Again, Myuren was silent.

Right, that had been the original intention.

The intention to take expensive potions and make them affordable enough for anyone to use.

But the intention was noble; the outcome was not.

The result was that there was no one on the continent who used drugs and didn't know of this substance.

Myuren hung his head.

Because he didn't feel he had the right to hold it up.

Nuram, looking worn out by Myuren's attitude, said,

"Ha…… What a stubborn bastard, really."

Just then, Red Bell's boss—Marek—appeared before him and said,

"That's enough. Bring him to my room."

"You're here, Boss."

"If torture won't make him talk, then I'll try having a conversation."

"Understood. I'll bring him right away."

"Mm."

Marek gave the order and disappeared at a leisurely pace.

Nuram immediately followed Marek's instructions and sent Myuren up to Marek's room.

Brought face to face with Marek, Myuren swallowed hard.

Marek looked at the visibly tense Myuren and asked,

"Is there something you want, and that's why you're keeping quiet? Say it. Tell me what it is you want that has you refusing to speak."

"……I want nothing. I simply want that drug to vanish from this world."

Marek narrowed his eyes and stared at Myuren.

"Well, fine. There's still plenty of time. If we talk slowly and get to know each other……"

Just as Marek said that and began moving toward Myuren—

"Gwaak!!"

Crash!

The door exploded apart and Nuram came flying through.

With a sword lodged in his neck.

"……What is this."

Marek stared wordlessly at Nuram's corpse.

Myuren, who had been standing to the side of the door, stumbled away from it in equal shock.

And the one responsible for this mess began walking slowly in through the doorway.

"Why does this place have such a complicated layout."

The one who walked in—Feyr—pulled the sword from Nuram's neck and shook the blood onto the floor.

"Designed to make it hard to find your way."

The moonlight reflected in the now-clean blade glimmered faintly.

Marek, who had been dazed for a moment, grabbed his sword from where it was displayed and immediately brought it down toward Feyr.

Feyr turned his body to the side to dodge and kicked Marek in the ribs.

Marek swung his sword horizontally, trying to drive Feyr back.

But Feyr ducked under the swing and slashed upward from below in a diagonal arc.

No—he thought he had cut him.

Clang-clang-clang!

Marek twisted his sword at a speed that didn't match his build and blocked Feyr's strike.

With Feyr's attack deflected, their swords locked and a standoff formed.

In that moment, Feyr looked at Marek and said,

"Looks like you know how to use Mana."

"……Who sent you?"

"Who knows?"

Thud!

Feyr kicked the opponent in the stomach and stepped back.

Fwoom—

"Let's end this quickly."

"……Aura? You……"

Instead of answering, Feyr thrust his sword toward the opponent's throat at blinding speed.

Marek blocked the thrust with the flat of his blade, but his guard opened wide.

Seeing that, Feyr drove inside and slashed upward—

and Marek, one beat too slow on the guard, gave up the clean hit.

"Ha……"

Marek, dealt a fatal wound, crumpled to the floor.

Feyr looked at Marek for a moment, then drove his sword tip through his heart to finish it.