novelraw Chapter 165 : Nightingale (2)
Chapter 165 : Nightingale (2)
Nightingale (2)
Deep within the forest.
There stood the massive tomb left by the ancient natives of this land: the Kalsis Ossuary.
A gigantic underground cavern, formed by roughly hewn stones stacked layer upon layer.
Ian was hiding his body in the thick shadows behind a massive pillar supporting the ceiling of the ossuary, looking down below.
'It's time.'
He held his breath, erasing all traces of his presence perfectly.
Today, right here, Nightingale's leader, the guildmaster Arsen, would be betrayed and ambushed.
Ian's gaze swept over every corner of the ruin.
Behind collapsed walls, between patches of brush, within the shadow of pillars.
Elite assassins from the Scarlet Spider squad, sent by Rosalia, the Sin of Lust Cult Leader, were lying in wait with bated breath.
Their presence was so thoroughly hidden that even an expert wouldn't notice unless they were nose-to-nose.
'I could easily leap down right now and slice the throats of those lurking bastards, but....'
Ian didn't move.
If Ian were to jump down and slaughter the assassins ahead of time, the insider who would arrive with Arsen today would cut ties and flee.
If the traitor survived, Nightingale would continue to rot from within, and in the future, humanity would be blind and deaf in the war against the demonkin.
'The moment the traitor shows his true colors.'
And the instant Arsen felt, to his core, the enormity of the evil called the Demon Cult backing it all.
At that decisive moment, Ian had to step forward.
Only then would Nightingale's guildmaster truly become vigilant, cleanse the organization, and be able to maintain its structure for the impending war with the demonkin.
—Shuffle. Shuffle.
Just then, the sound of people approaching came from the entrance of the ruins.
"Is it here, Veradin?"
A voice that was neither high nor low.
An androgynous, strangely pure tone.
It was Arsen, the guildmaster of Nightingale.
With not a wrinkle marring that smooth face, but eyes as deep and profound as an elder who had lived for centuries.
From appearance alone, it was impossible to guess age or even gender—a person of uncanny presence.
Following behind was a young woman with an innocent face.
A comrade from his previous life, Serana, whose features were far younger and sharper than Ian recalled.
And a man was guiding them.
"Yes, master. This is the place."
He was Veradin, one of Nightingale's highest officials, an Apostle of the Night, and the internal conspirator of this assassination plot.
"The coordinates recorded in the ancient texts point precisely here. I am certain the artifact you seek is hidden in these ruins."
Veradin bowed as he gestured deeper in.
"Hm."
Arsen paused to look around.
His eyes narrowed.
"Much too quiet."
"... It's to be expected of a place abandoned for ages like this. Please, let's head inside quickly."
Veradin urged them on.
Arsen felt a strange sense of dissonance, but walked into the ruins as Veradin urged.
Veradin had been a close confidant at his side for over twenty years.
He never imagined anything terrible would happen from simply following.
–Step. Step.
For a short while, their footsteps echoed inside the ruins.
When the trio reached the central hall of the ossuary, a broad clearing—
—Fwhip!
—Flash! Crash-crash-crash!
Suddenly, assassins in red masks poured out from all directions in the darkness.
Dozens of poisoned needles and throwing stars rained down like a shower.
"M-Master!!"
Serana screamed, drawing her dagger.
But Arsen was not flustered.
As the chief of an intelligence network, he had an iron calm honed to the extreme.
Though it was an unexpected ambush, he calmly rolled his eyes, analyzing the situation.
"It seems our movements have been leaked."
From within his sleeve, Arsen pulled out a folding iron fan and steel wires.
—Clang! Clang-clang-clang!
With dazzling movements, he deflected the torrent of thrown weapons—a display almost acrobatic.
"Veradin, Serana! Run for the exit. I'll break through the front!"
"Y-Yes, sir!"
"Y-Yes!"
Arsen blocked the onslaught at the vanguard, opening a path toward the exit.
In the blink of an eye, half a dozen assassins were struck at their vital points by Arsen's fan and collapsed.
'Remarkable.'
Ian, watching from above, was impressed.
Even faced with a surprise attack, he showed no panic nor was he overwhelmed.
Instead, he was overpowering the assassins, looking as though he could break the encirclement.
But—
'Those assassins are demonic humans of the Cult of Lust.'
Their specialty was not covert weapons or ambushes.
Their true forte lay in insidious, deadly curses and poisons.
—Piiiiii!
One of the red-masked assassins blew a flute held in his lips.
Immediately, all the assassins pulled crimson beads from their waists and threw them to the floor.
—Bang! Boom!
A thick pink smoke billowed upwards.
"...!?"
Arsen's face twisted.
Just the smell was enough to tell it was no ordinary smoke bomb.
A sweet, hazy scent that stung the nose.
A demon artefact personally crafted by Rosalia, the Sin of Lust Cult Leader.
A drug that clouded the mind, sapped the will, and forced the victim into pleasure or helplessness.
"... Serana! Veradin! Hold your breath!"
Arsen shouted, but it was already too late.
It was a fine powder, soaking in not just through the nose but also the pores.
"A-ah... Master..."
Serana's pupils began to lose focus.
"Damn..."
Arsen tried to bite his tongue to remain conscious, but his vision spun dizzily.
No matter how skilled the expert, if one lacked resistance to demon realm-based drugs, there was no countermeasure.
At that moment—
"Master! The antidote! Please, take it!"
From behind, Veradin urgently shouted, tossing a glass vial.
Arsen reached out to grab the vial without suspicion.
But—
—Smash!
Before Arsen's hand touched it, the vial shattered in the air—
Just like a grenade.
"... Ugh!?"
Green liquid sprayed from the broken vial, splashing over Arsen's face and chest.
—Sizzle!
"Kuaaaagh!!"
With a terrible sound of burning flesh, smoke rose up.
Instead of antidote, it was a powerful corrosive poison.
A hopeless situation, with mind gnawed by drugs and body being destroyed by poison.
—Thud!
Arsen dropped to one knee.
The steel wire he used as a cane trembled in his grip.
"V-Veradin...how could you...why...!"
Arsen glared with bloodshot eyes.
Veradin, now wearing a gas mask, flashed a vile grin.
"My apologies, master. But what can I do? The pleasure given to me by that person is sweeter than anything I could have from Nightingale."
Veradin drew a blue venom-coated dagger from his belt.
"M-Master!"
Serana tried to rush at him with a scream, but was struck by pelting stones from all directions and tumbled across the floor.
"Ugh, ugh!"
"Hehehe... At last I can offer Nightingale to that person. Let's hurry. I want my reward. Farewell, master."
Veradin raised the dagger high.
Arsen, poisoned and drugged, could not move a single finger.
All he could do was glare at his betrayer in bitter frustration.
Serana squeezed her eyes shut in despair.
Ian did not miss the moment.
'Now.'
—Boom!!
Something heavy dropped from the ceiling.
"...?"
Veradin didn't even have time to turn his head.
—Crack!
"Kuaaaagh!!"
Veradin's wrist, holding the dagger, was crushed and torn as if bitten by a bear.
"Wh-Who are you?!"
The assassins, terrified, froze where they stood.
From within the dense pink smoke, a man in a black robe slowly straightened up.
In his hand was a massive, black greatsword.
Ian looked down wordlessly at Veradin, who was screaming as he clutched his mangled forearm.
"Pathetic."
So this sort of scum was the reason Nightingale fell in his previous life?
"I-I asked you, who are you?!"
The Scarlet Spider squad's captain shouted in panic.
Instead of answering, Ian kicked Veradin.
—Thwack!
Veradin's body flew like a shell, smashing into the wall.
"Kegh!"
"Insane! Kill him! Flood him with the smoke!"
On the captain's order, the assassins directed the pink smoke toward Ian.
—Shhhhh!
A thick fog, brimming with curses, engulfed Ian.
"Keheheh! No matter how strong you are, if you breathe in this potent cursed mist...!"
But—
—Step. Step.
Ian walked out of the pink mist utterly unfazed.
No stumbling, no dizziness.
As if he'd only inhaled fresh air.
Hammah's body.
A body immune to all curses, all psychic attacks, all demonic energies.
Drugs infused with curse energy—grown to carry the demon realm's demonic energy—meant nothing to Ian.
This foul fog was, to him, simply colored air.
"Is that all?"
Ian waved his hand, muttering.
"H-how...! How is this possible?!"
The captain was aghast.
That mist could immobilize even top-rank masters at once with its potent hallucinogenic curse.
Yet that man was striding through it, unprotected and unaffected.
"P-Poison! Hit him with poison needles!"
If curses didn't work, then a strong poison it would be.
The assassins aimed their needle launchers all at once.
—Fwsh-fwsh-fwsh-fwsh!
Hundreds of poisoned needles rained down like a storm.
Poisons so deadly, even Hammah's body might not block them completely.
But Ian didn't dodge.
—Vwooom!
Instead, a violent wind began to whirl about him.
Wind-element aura.
—Fwaaaaa!!
A powerful headwind surged out from Ian's body.
The needles ricocheted, scattering in every direction.
"W-what?!"
"Aaagh!"
Assassins fell, struck by their own volley of poisoned needles.
"Crude."
Ian slung the black greatsword onto his shoulder and strode forward.
"What now?"
"H-how... How can this be?!"
The captain's will was broken.
The plan and preparations for the assassination had been perfect.
Every variable had been checked, all means were flawless.
But suddenly, an overwhelming being, totally immune to attack, had appeared.
They had to run.
"Retreat! Fall back!"
But Ian had no intention of letting them go.
"Now it's my turn."
Ian's eyes gleamed coldly.
There was no need for fancy swordplay.
He unleashed a style of practical swordsmanship—unrefined but reliably deadly.
—Swing! Thud!
Each time the greatsword swung like a club, an assassin popped like a tomato.
—Sli-I-ce!
With a single broad cut, three heads could fly off at once.
Overwhelming strength and speed.
There was no need for cunning techniques.
Just strike faster and harder.
One minute.
That was all it took to annihilate the entire elite assassin squad.
The ruins were filled with corpses and the stench of blood.
Ian released the black greatsword he'd been projecting and pulled two small vials from inside his clothes.
Aware in advance of the demonic humans' plans and methods, Ian had prepared antidotes at the dimensional shop.
—Swish.
Ian handed the antidotes to Serana.
"This is a curse antidote. Drink it. The yellow potion is for the Master."
"Uhh..."
Serana blankly gazed up at Ian.
The strange man offering her unfamiliar potions, and just now she'd been betrayed by Veradin—her trusted superior—yet Serana accepted the antidote Ian offered.
A man capable of such overwhelming violence could have forced anything if he held evil intent.
With trembling hands, she took the antidote and crawled to Arsen.
After drinking and pouring the antidote on his wounds, the poison drained away like a lie and his mind cleared.
"Whew... Thank you, Serana."
Arsen, gasping for breath, looked up at his lifesaver—and at the mysterious monster who'd rescued them.
He gazed at Ian with a mix of caution and awe.
Just who was this man?
Why had he saved them?
As the leader of Nightingale, he prided himself on knowing almost all there was to know.
But about the man before him—nothing came to mind.
"... Who are you?"
Arsen asked formally, his tone sharp.
Ian did not answer.
Instead, he raised a hand and made a peculiar gesture.
He shaped his fingers like a crescent moon, tapping twice over his heart.
At the sight, Arsen's pupils shook violently as if struck by an earthquake.