Part 1: Retirement (1)
A carriage was traveling through the Zarkin Mountains.
The two horses pulling the carriage were of excellent breed.
Their muscular thighs flexed powerfully with each step, and the sound of their hooves was steady and rhythmic.
Despite the uneven dirt road, the carriage enchanted with stabilization magic moved without a jolt.
On the side of the carriage was an emblem of blazing flames.
It was the symbol of the Magna Ducal House—one of the three pillars of the Grand Duchy of Grann.
“Stop here.”
At Magna’s command, the coachman pulled the reins.
The horses came to a halt.
Magna stepped down from the carriage.
The ten knights who had been escorting the carriage dismounted and bowed their heads.
“You all stay here. I have personal business to attend to alone.”
Magna ventured into the forest alone.
‘I’m not sure if this is the right choice.’
A wry smile tugged at the corners of Magna’s lips.
But what choice did he have?
The die had already been cast.
Whooosh.
A cold winter wind blew in from the west, carrying the chill of the night. The mountain path was eerily silent, almost sinister.
The faint glow of the moonlight was the only guide through the darkness.
Magna stopped in his tracks and spoke to himself, “Your camouflage is as impressive as they say. But isn’t it rude to act this way when meeting someone for the first time?”
To his astonishment, another figure emerged from his shadow.
“Apologies. It’s an old habit of mine.”
The figure that had materialized from the shadow was a middle-aged man who now stood facing Magna.
The man wore a black robe that hinted at a solid, well-built frame.
“I didn’t expect you to come in person.”
“I couldn’t entrust the Iron-Blood Swordmaster’s request to my subordinates. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Fleta, the Rogue Master.”
Fleta gave a polite bow.
Colorless. Odorless.
Magna summed up Fleta in two words.
If the man hadn’t emerged from the shadows himself, Magna would never have believed he was the Rogue Master. That’s how unremarkable his presence was.
“Let’s get straight to the point. I want to commission an assassination.”
“An assassination request from a duke… Now that piques my interest. Who’s the target?”
“Astaroth.”
Magna’s answer was brief, but its weight lingered in the air.
“Astaroth… The same Astaroth I’m thinking of?”
“Yes.”
“A tricky opponent.”
After this brief comment, Fleta fell silent.
Astaroth.
The 29th-ranked demon who had torn through dimensional rifts to invade the continent.
Fleta didn’t ask Magna why he wanted Astaroth assassinated.
Perhaps he already knew.
Or maybe, for him, reasons didn’t matter.
‘Even the Rogue Master might find this impossible.’
Magna interpreted the silence as refusal.
Magna had a youngest son he cherished dearly.
That son was soon to lead the second subjugation expedition against Astaroth.
The boy was already a Swordmaster, and the expedition was composed of elite knights, paladins, and mages.
Yet, Magna couldn’t shake his worry.
The descent of a high-ranking demon was synonymous with disaster.
Magna wished he could join the subjugation himself, but he was bound by other duties assigned by the king.
If Astaroth could be assassinated in advance, the subjugation would go smoothly.
“Difficult, but not impossible. Provided the reward is substantial enough.”
“Are you saying you can actually do it?”
Magna’s eyes widened at the unexpected acceptance.
“Of course.”
“Good. If you succeed, I’ll guarantee a massive reward in my name.”
“I’ll begin within four days.”
“As expected of the Rogue Master. I’m counting on you.”
“However, the assassination won’t be carried out by me.”
“What nonsense are you spouting now?”
Magna’s brow furrowed.
The Rogue Master, Fleta, was known as the thief among thieves, the father of rogues. If not him, who could handle such a task?
Rumble. Rumble.
Furious mana poured out of Magna, shaking the ground and making the forest tremble.
“Are you planning to send some second-rate assassin against Astaroth? That would only provoke him!”
“Calm yourself.”
“You’d better have a proper explanation.”
“The one handling this is a friend of mine—someone far more skilled than I am.”
“What? Someone more skilled than the Rogue Master?”
Magna was stunned.
He couldn’t tell if he was being played because of his son’s life being on the line, or if Fleta was simply that persuasive.
“Frankly, I find that hard to believe. An assassin greater than the Rogue Master?”
“Keep this between us, but every SSS-class assassination mission has been handled by this friend of mine.”
“SSS-class? Give me an example.”
“Remember the havoc caused by the Rampaging Dragon Cassis two years ago in the Terin Empire?”
“Who wouldn’t? There was talk of a continent-wide alliance to bring it down. Then it suddenly went quiet… Wait. Are you saying…”
“Exactly. My friend dealt with it. A rampaging dragon doesn’t just calm down for no reason, does it?”
The truth Fleta revealed left Magna frozen in place.
Someone capable of assassinating a dragon?
If this friend wished it, even Magna—a Grand Swordmaster—could be killed without a trace.
Fleta’s words could be bluff or the hidden truth of the world. Magna couldn’t be sure.
But one thing was certain: Magna’s voice softened afterward.
“Ahem. My apologies for doubting you. I’ll leave this matter in your capable hands.”
* * *
The Northwest Forest of Liet in the Grand Duchy of Grann.
A young man with violet skin was admiring the view of the lake.
The man’s name was Astaroth.
He was the 29th-ranked demon who had crossed into the human world two months ago through a dimensional rift.
The moment he descended, he summoned his familiars to take complete control of the forest.
When humans organized the first subjugation force and attacked, he massacred them, turning their blood and flesh into his nourishment.
Astaroth intended to conquer the human realm little by little.
Unlike the barren Demon Realm, the human world had pleasant scenery and abundant energy sources.
His grand ambition was to build power and influence in the human world before returning to the Demon Realm to claim it as his own.
But then…
“An uninvited guest,” Astaroth muttered, frowning as he turned around.
A lean middle-aged man was approaching him. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his steps were silent and precise.
Had Astaroth not established a magical barrier around the area, he wouldn’t have noticed the man’s approach at all. Even the familiars spread throughout the forest had failed to report anything.
“How unlucky,” the man said in a deep voice.
“Unlucky indeed,” Astaroth replied.
“For you. You could have died painlessly.”
The man’s words were arrogant beyond measure. A mere human, daring to claim he could kill Astaroth easily?
Astaroth’s calm demeanor gave way to a surge of anger.
“Do you even know where you are or who I am?”
“Of course. This is the Forest of Liet, and you’re my assassination target.”
“Now that my identity is revealed, hasn’t the assassination already failed?”
“If there are no witnesses, it’s still an assassination.”
The man’s answer was curt.
Vrrrmmm.
Astaroth’s eyes glowed red as he used one of his powers, the Eye of Insight, on the man.
The Eye of Insight was Astaroth’s unique ability, allowing him to peer into the near future of his target.
‘Impossible…’
The demon struggled to remain composed.
Because…
What he saw through the Eye of Insight was a vision of his own head being severed.
The 29th-ranked demon, losing his life to a mere human? It was unthinkable.
“Tch. Must be having an off day,” Astaroth muttered, shaking his head to dispel the ominous vision.
“Stop wasting my time and die,” he growled, waving his hand as if swatting away a fly.
With that gesture, black flames erupted around the man, forming a dome that pressed in on him.
The flames were unquenchable, a fire that reduced souls to ash. Death was the only fate awaiting the man.
“With your soul burned away, you’ll find neither heaven nor hell…”
Astaroth’s words trailed off.
Zzzzt!
The space in front of him tore open, and the man emerged unscathed, standing right in front of him.
Swoosh!
A golden dagger traced an arc like a crescent moon. Astaroth dodged swiftly but couldn’t avoid it completely. His shoulder was grazed, and violet blood gushed out.
A sharp pain flared up.
“A thief using teleportation?”
“Close, but not quite,” the man replied.
Flash!
In an instant, the man vanished from Astaroth’s sight.
Astaroth spun around, sensing danger behind him. The man had reappeared, aiming the golden dagger straight for him.
Thunk!
The dagger buried itself deep into Astaroth’s back. He felt faint but clung to consciousness through sheer rage.
This rat of a man!
‘I’ll skin you alive, crush every bone, and devour your entrails!’
“Kraaahhh!”
Astaroth roared, releasing a massive surge of demonic energy.
The nearby trees withered instantly, and dark clouds blanketed the once-clear sky.
Returning to his demonic form, Astaroth sprouted sharp horns from his head and massive wings from his shoulders. In his hands appeared twin greatswords forged from black flames—his true form revealed.
“Now, I’ll show you what true hell looks like.”
“Demons always say the same thing. Can’t you come up with something more original?”
Despite Astaroth’s fearsome transformation, the man remained unshaken.
“You’ll regret your arrogance,” Astaroth snarled.
Swoosh! Swoosh!
He swung his flaming greatswords with wild ferocity, forcing the man to retreat and dodge. Occasionally, the man would tear through space to counterattack, but Astaroth had already adapted, leaving no openings.
Victory seemed within Astaroth’s grasp, yet a nagging unease gnawed at him.
“Is this the best you’ve got?”
“What?”
“I asked if this is all your strength can muster.”
“You insolent wretch… I’ll tear you limb from limb!”
Astaroth swung his swords wildly, but the man leapt back and charged forward like a streak of light.
His footsteps carried an eerie rhythm, like the solemn melody of a requiem. Astaroth felt a chill run down his spine.
“Requiem,” the man whispered, becoming a beam of light that passed through Astaroth.
Astaroth stood frozen, seemingly unharmed.
“Hah! You fool… You missed…”
Thud!
Astaroth’s head fell from his shoulders. Violet blood sprayed like a fountain as his body crumpled to the ground.
The severed head stared in disbelief at its own lifeless body and the man who had slain him.
He couldn’t accept it. He had crossed dimensions, built power, and dreamed of returning to the Demon Realm triumphant. To die here, at the hands of a mere human?
“Th-this must be… a dream…”
Muttering his final words, Astaroth died with his eyes wide open.
Meanwhile, the man sheathed his golden dagger with a click and walked away.
From Astaroth’s corpse, a gray mist rose—visible only to the man. As he reached out, the demonic energy flowed into him, leaving no trace behind.
Just as he had appeared without warning, the man vanished without a sound.
To be continued
Brought to you by Gourmet Scans
Translator: Maize
Editor: Maize
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