Chapter 34

In the underground temple corridor, where only a faint light flickered, there was nothing but a breath-taking atmosphere.

“I decide what is right for myself. He led me here, and I chose to take his hand. If that’s the case, the choice is already made—because he and I are comrades.”

The dimness was illuminated only by the faint light of a candelabra, which cast a glow on the two figures.

Caria, her eyes gleaming with the same silver hue as her long sword, drew it out. Helt Stanley, despite his visible unease, widened his stance, ready for combat.

Like Caria, he drew his double-edged sword, which, though modestly decorated, retained its white brilliance even in the darkness.

In the narrow corridor, the two stood with their swords drawn, facing each other. Despite the close distance, neither moved. Silence dominated the dimly lit space.

The flame in the candelabra flickered, casting a pale glow.

Neither could fully read the other. Whether the other understood the situation, whether they grasped the current circumstances, remained uncertain. If not, death was inevitable.

Heavy sighs, reflecting the two’s inner turmoil, tried to escape their lungs but were repeatedly suppressed.

Caria’s eyelashes fluttered, and Helt’s gauntlet tilted.

—Zaan

The sound of a blade slicing through the air. That sound was the signal.

From a half-turned stance, Caria lunged forward, her silver sword flashing in the air. The movement, seen from the front, was a straight, mesmerizing line.

There was no tremor in the tip of the sword, no delay in the coordination of her limbs. That single strike was a testament to her innate talent and the daily training that kept it pure.

In response, Helt’s white sword gleamed. He took a half-step back with his right foot, angling the tip to the right rear and downward. His eyes, wide open, showed no hesitation or confusion.

Almost simultaneously with the silver flash, a white line tore through the air. It described a graceful trajectory, aiming to gouge the opponent’s armpit, fully utilizing his strength and the weight of the sword. The trajectory was the shortest possible, sharp and devoid of any waste.

The contact was simultaneous. Blood gushed from the human body, freely swaying in the air, and flesh tore as if it had always been that way, blooming and opening.

The silver flash cut through the neck, and the white gleam gouged the flesh from the armpit.

With a thud, two bodies collapsed almost simultaneously.

“—At the end, you weren’t even looking at me. If you don’t, you might be taken by surprise.”

With a somewhat sarcastic tone, Caria pulled her silver longsword from the back of an unknown figure that had approached from behind Helt. The head was endlessly spewing blood, signaling the owner’s death.

“I’ll return the same line, Caria. You couldn’t see my trajectory, could you? When did you notice?”

Caria shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Helt had cut off the left arm of a black-clad figure that had emerged from Caria’s shadow and then dispatched the person. The black fabric covering his face prevented his expression from being seen, but his eyes revealed agitation, anxiety, and finally, confusion.

Why?

We were just about to finish off the intruder who had turned on his comrades, weren’t we? The sudden change in the situation left his thoughts struggling to catch up, filled with confusion and panic.

Seeing this, Caria exclaimed, “Impressive. You kept him alive, while I ended up killing him. I wanted to hear what he had to say.”

“Do you really think he would talk? There’s no certainty that he’s related to Fiarat or Louis.”

Saying this, Helt tied the mouth of the black-clad man’s severed left arm with a cloth. The blood stopped, and for the first time, intense pain shot through the man.

The sensation, which had been lost due to the intense pain, suddenly returned, warning his brain of danger. It screamed to stop the bleeding and seal the wound. The man groaned involuntarily.

“Of course. There’s no certainty, but I’m not wrong. Though it may seem contradictory, the presence of trouble suggests that Louis is involved somewhere. And if necessary, the Knights also consider torture an appropriate method.”

Her silver hair swayed, and in the faint light, she looked terribly frightening, exuding a strange sense of authority. It was clear. Whether she said it or not, she would definitely do it, as her attitude clearly showed.

The man’s insides contracted as if gripped by a hawk. In front of him was a pain more terrifying than death. But he steeled his gaze, determined not to speak. An assassin is prepared for everything. Once it comes to this, the best course of action is to choose death before the body, a mere vessel, is torn apart and the inner spirit is exposed in its weakness.

He opened his lips slightly, ready to bite down on the poison hidden in his molar. It was just a matter of a moment, a single bite, a single drop. Yet, for some reason, his teeth wouldn’t come down. Something was jammed in his mouth, preventing him from biting the poison.

“Please don’t die. I don’t wish for your death. I hope you will live.”

Helt’s thumb and index finger quickly inserted into the man’s mouth, holding it open. Then, with those two fingers, he removed the small bag of poison from the man’s teeth.

The man’s face turned pale. It wasn’t because the easy way to die had been taken away, nor because the obvious torture was about to begin.

It was because he understood that Helt’s actions were undoubtedly well-intentioned. He wasn’t keeping him alive to extract information or to mutilate his body.

He was keeping him alive out of genuine concern.

It was terrifying. A sensation as if his mind was being squeezed by thousands of thorns. A fear that made his spine shiver.

“Caria, I’ll take the role of extracting information.”

“I’m surprised. I thought you were the type who wouldn’t do such things.”

Helt nodded, a calm smile on his face.

“Yes, of course. But if I don’t do it, you will. Refusing to do it, knowing that, would be cowardly. I don’t want to be a coward, someone people point at and call names.”

He moved his lips, placed his hand over his heart, and said to the man,

“I will do my best for you. I will do my best to keep you alive and to keep your mind intact.”

It meant that no matter how much he pleaded, he would not be killed, and no matter how much he prayed to God, he would not be driven mad. All out of genuine concern.

Dizziness swept over him. His heart, which should have been prepared, easily crumbled. He had been ready for malice. He had been accustomed to it since childhood. But, but to meet, at the end, a kindness that so easily surpassed that malice—wasn’t that too much, God?

His prayer, a mix of overwhelming fear and sobs, silently disappeared into the darkness.