Chapter 132

“Who the hell are these guys?”

“How the hell should I know?”

If not for their sudden intrusion, things would not have escalated so uncontrollably. At least there would have been time to respond. Eugène asked the question out of curiosity about the strangers, and Hunter snapped back irritably.

“You are supposedly the one responsible for the information, yet you do not know much, huh?”

Eugène sneered and turned to face the attackers again, but Hunter doggedly pressed against him once more.

“Just a moment ago, you were singing about wanting to be one with me, and now you are trying to run?”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?”

Eugène struck viciously with the poignard aimed at his opponent’s lower groin, then savagely kicked the forward-leaning head, snapping back with irritation.

“For just now, you and I are one! You brought me this far, so you will take responsibility for me!!”

Hunter glared, warning that he was now little more than Eugène’s limbs and that there was not a chance he would let go.

“What madness.”

Eugène, unwilling to waste attention on his companion’s reckless banter even at the edge of death, simply ignored him and drew the sica from his waist. The sica, still stained with blood, glimmered ominously under the candlelight. Perhaps guessing its source, the men’s expressions grew even more menacing.

A sharp blade lunged violently, along with curses in Camarin. A long and wildly creative string of curses poured out, mixing his late mother, his own intestines, prostitutes, and dysentery. Eugène could not help but admire the opponent’s originality. Slipping diagonally to avoid the descending cutlass, he spun a full circle and, with the sica held in reverse, caught the man’s mouth and tore it horizontally.

He had not particularly aimed for the mouth, as it was really meant for the neck, but the miss did not trouble him. It did, however, serve as a lesson to the fool who had failed to behave politely.

Clang, clang, clang.

The fight was not limited to them. At the tops of the stair landings, both sides clashed, each engaging in separate skirmishes. Combat erupted in three locations simultaneously.

The people of the mansion, having secured a relatively advantageous position, held out tenaciously even with their scattered forces. Meanwhile, the opposing groups were paying dearly for their unprepared assault. They possessed a numerical advantage, but were unable to capitalize on it, stranded on the stairs.

But this phase will not last long.

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The rat-like figure carefully surveyed the scene amid the commotion. There was something vaguely familiar about him. Eugène’s mind raced as he compared the man’s features with the mental image he had stored.

Brown hair streaked with gray, deep green eyes. A narrow, hooked nose and high cheekbones gave him a stern, hard-edged appearance. He could not be called entirely refined, but the excessively cunning look in his eyes made the overall impression unpleasant.

Thierry Kiatek!

The man matched Gecko’s description exactly. After gauging the course of the fight, realizing they were losing, he hastily closed the door. Eugène’s heart leapt in alarm at the discovery.

If he ran off alone in this situation, he would lose the lead he had just caught. Using the dagger, Eugène jabbed upward into the solar plexus of the man rushing at him, then hooked the tip of his sica on the sheath and thrust it forward.

The sword-stick, thin as a skewer, drew blood the moment it appeared. A man, aiming for that moment, swung a dagger from the side. Eugène quickly leaned back to avoid the blade, but not completely; part of his cheek was cut.

Ignoring the now-burning cheek, he feigned a kick to the opponent’s ankle. The distraction caused by this allowed him to immediately strike a lethal blow aimed at the man’s throat.

The opponent tried to defend against the savage counterattack, but it was ineffective. Blocking such a slender, oddly-shaped blade with a relatively short dagger required immense skill and equally impressive luck. The man possessed some skill, but woefully lacked luck.

The man barely deflected the sword-stick in time, redirecting its path. But instead of striking the throat as intended, the blade tore through his carotid artery.

That was just the beginning. From that point on, anyone who stood in Eugène’s path suffered a fatal blow. He cleared obstacles with ruthless momentum and pressed forward. However, by the time he kicked open a closed door like a battering ram and entered the room, Thierry Kiatek was no longer there.

Eugène quickly reviewed the layout of the house he had memorized. Outside the balcony was the backyard, and at the far end of the yard lay a small private pier.“Damn it!”Swearing under his breath, he ran out onto the balcony. Peering over the railing, he spotted the man who had escaped through a window now just touching down on the ground below.

Eugène, upon seeing this, immediately vaulted over the railing and leapt down.

“Haah!”

The man, startled by the sudden movement, looked up and met Eugène’s intense gaze. Stunned by the harsh gaze, he swallowed hard, then quickly turned and bolted from the spot.

After rolling several times to reduce the impact of landing, Eugène barely regained his balance and hurled the sica he was holding. Cutting through the darkness, the blade embedded itself behind the man’s calf.Clatter, clatter, clatter.The man tumbled across the yard with a spectacularly loud crash.

He had even once cut through a rope to pin fleeing pirates in place. At this distance, it was actually harder to miss. As the man’s rolling body hit the garden floor, the scattered cobblestones clattered in all directions. Eugène ignored the throbbing pain in his ankle and continued to pursue him.

“Where do you think you are going?”

The man, trying to get up quickly with his leg still bleeding, was knocked back down to the ground by a kick from Eugène.

“Ughhh!”

The man let out a painful scream as his face scraped against the uneven cobblestones. Eugène slid his foot under the man’s hunched shoulders to turn him over, then pressed down on the solar plexus to pin him in place and leaned over to glare coldly at his face.

The light from the house above faintly revealed Eugène’s outline. The man, who had been too panicked to do anything but dodge, finally realized who he was dealing with and widened his eyes in shock.

“Oh, Baron Amieux–”

“Judging by your accent, you are a perfect Imperial citizen. It seems that you were the ‘foolish Imperial fellow’ after all?”

Thierry’s accent was flawlessly smooth, the refined courtly speech of the court. From the incident in the kitchen, Eugène, who had been vaguely suspicious of the identity of the ‘Imperial fellow’, bared his white teeth as he interrogated the man fiercely.

However, the man, having no way of knowing how he had been referred to by those of the Confederation, could not understand the meaning behind the interrogation and could only break out in a cold sweat.

“Baron Amieux- I- Your Excellency, I do not know the reason, but there must be some misunderstanding here.”

Even now, with the situation at its peak, the man seemed to be searching for a way out. He darted his eyes shrewdly, offering weak excuses that would not convince anyone.

Did he really think claiming ‘misunderstanding’ as his defense at this point was supposed to work? Eugène glared at him with murderous intent and demanded.

“What misunderstanding? That you are a citizen of this empire? Or that you are a member of a rebellious faction conspiring with foreign spies?”

“Re-rebellion, that is absurd! I-”

BANG–

Right at that moment, a gunshot rang out from behind. Eugène flinched as he saw the trajectory of the bullet pass just past his ankle.

“AAAAHHHH!”

But it was the man, not Eugène, that the gun aimed at. Thierry’s previously intact right hand was pierced, bone exposed, and he howled like a wounded animal. Eugène lifted his head to see where the shot had come from.

On the balcony from which he had just jumped, there stood someone he had not seen before. The dim backlighting revealed only the faint outline of the figure, but Eugène could already make a solid guess of his identity from the golden hair that shone like a halo of an angel.

Your Majesty?

The figure on the balcony, looking down at them with the austere composure of an archangel of vengeance, was none other than Ebroin V himself.…Your Majesty? Why are you here?Eugène, unable to hide his bewilderment, met the Emperor’s silent gaze. The Emperor tilted the muzzle of the pistol he held, indicating the floor to Eugène’s left.

Eugène involuntarily glanced in the direction he was pointing and then raised his head. But in the meantime, the Emperor had already turned and disappeared from sight.

Even though he had done nothing wrong, he could not shake the feeling of being in a hopeless predicament. For the first time since breaking into the mansion, he felt genuine tension and let out a sullen sigh.

***

From the edge of the backyard to the central hall at the front entrance, a long streak of blood traced the path he had moved along. Thierry, clutching his bullet-pierced hand with the other, limping from a punctured calf, looked so wretched that even the coldest person could not help but feel sympathy. But Eugène paid no mind to his condition, just as he had ignored the fates of the other Imperial citizens, forcibly escorting him onward.

By the time they returned to the mansion, the situation had already been brought under control. Of course. While those inside had held their ground until Eugène departed, it had never been a balance that could last. Despite being scattered, a single misstep would have made them easy prey for piecemeal defeat.

About half of the mansion’s occupants lay dead, and the remaining survivors had been bound and dragged to the center of the hall, forced to kneel. Among the attackers, there were injuries but no fatalities. Eugène’s gaze fell on a familiar group standing together beyond the prisoners and their captors, and he moved toward them.

“What a coincidence. We have been searching nearly every monastery on the outskirts of Michèle, but this is the first time we have actually located members of the Nightwing.”

He had figured after seeing the Emperor, but the attackers were indeed members of the Anti-Chevalier. Hunter, his one wrist wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, was in earnest discussion with the relatively unscathed Victor Adelphe. When Victor spoke first, Hunter tilted his head and responded with a question.

“Have you had no success on your end either?”

“Judging by what you say, Mr. Chasseur, you are in the same position.”

“Something like that. It is no boast, but when it comes to grievances against Nightwing, we are no less motivated than you. Acting on your request, we combed the smuggling routes like we were catching mice, but all we turned up was dust. Not a single one, let alone thousands.”

Victor was well aware of Hunter’s grudge against Nightwing. After their previous encounter, the Emperor, sensing the hidden circumstances, had ordered a thorough investigation, which Victor had dutifully carried out.

Even though they were all from the Confederation of Five Nations, it was unthinkable that Hunter would cover Nightwing’s actions. A fleeting hope that there might still be some gain showed on Victor’s face, which quickly turned to doubt. He scrutinized the gagged prisoners carefully to prevent any chance of suicide, frowning at the dismal scene.